Heart of a Diamond
by purplangel
Summary: AU. Rick's completed the Storm series and is looking for a female muse for inspiration. He hears about the stunning, illustrious Diamond through an exclusive men's club and decides he has to meet the high-end escort for himself. He's amazed by her hidden depths and floored by the realization that he just might not be man enough to handle her.
1. Chapter 1

His heart stops when he sees her.

Of course he's heard about Diamond's beauty, lustrous as her name, with glossy streaks of thick hair, fascinating eyes that seem to change color in different lighting, with a killer body worth more than a 10-carat jewel, - but catching a glimpse of those legs that look like she's trained at the New York City Ballet Company and an ass that's as hard as her name, he actually stumbles, finds himself pitching forward as he thinks if her face comes anywhere near matching her body, he's done for.

His eyes follow her voluptuous form walking away from him in the ultramarine dress, her skin practically translucent as the fabric hugs the feminine curve of her hips and the smooth line of her ass, making his groin jump at the realization that she's not wearing anything underneath, not even a slutty thong.

The concierge, a short, blond man with hints of Irish heritage, is looking at him like he's seen this reaction a thousand times before and with a she's-way-outta-your-league-grin relays, "You've got twenty minutes with her before her bodyguard," he nods towards a Hispanic man with bulging muscles and an even bigger bulge under his jacket, (hiding what Castle speculates is a hefty Glock) "interrupts and makes sure payment is given for services rendered."

"Twenty minutes, huh?" Castle asks, figuring even an hour with her wouldn't be enough to satisfy him.

"Believe me when I say most men don't need that long."

"I can only imagine. Thanks for the heads-up concerning her Beefcake Bodyguard," and then he's strolling towards the unnerving man, holding his steely gaze, black eyes drilling holes into his ruggedly-handsome face.

Rick extends his hand and genuinely smiles, speaking in what he hopes is a gentlemanly manner. "I'm Rick Castle here to meet with the infamous Diamond."

The man doesn't reach for his hand but cooly checks him over, raking his eyes down his tall frame, sizing him up, evaluating how fast he can bring him down if it becomes necessary.

"Don't try anything with her," he warns, "or you won't like the consequences."

Rick holds his hands up in surrender, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Don't worry. I promise she'll stay as virtuous as she is right now. I only have a few questions for her."

The way the man glares at him clearly states that he isn't impressed with a namby-pamby author who used his celebrity status to finagle his way into his boss' life.

"Questions only," he reiterates before growling, "Follow me."

Rick kept up with the man, meeting stride for stride, as he escorted him down a plush, deserted hallway.

The hispanic nods his head towards Room 117 and then takes position outside the door, leaning back against the wall.

"She's ready for you," he drones, while folding his arms across his chest, leather jacket pulling taut across his abdomen, exposing a hint of gold.

It doesn't pass by the author's notice it could very well be an Officer's badge.

_There's more going on here than what I was led to originally believe. _

He looks at his reflection in the gilded mirror in the hallway and straightens his mauve Pancaldi tie before turning the handle to the suite.

It's dim inside the room. The blinds are drawn closed to keep the heat of the afternoon sun at bay. He sneaks a peek inside the posh restroom and notices Clive Christian perfume, Tracie Martyn face powder and _what the hell?_

He swallows nervously as there's a thigh holster lying near the sink.

He calls out, "Diamond?" making her aware of his presence but when he walks into the sitting room area her back is turned to him as she removes a delicate chain from around her neck, a wedding band dangling from it.

He gazes at her graceful back, the long, lean lines of muscle that have been contoured due to hours of yoga, the thin but muscular arms which tell him she can easily defend herself and he's transfixed, watching her carefully remove the necklace.

She turns to him, a coy smile lighting her features, and she breathes, "So you're the famous author, Richard Castle?" and then he's looking into the face of an exotic angel, exquisite bone-structure, model cheek-bones, skin as pure as freshly fallen snow, eyelashes sweeping as gently as a butterfly's wing, lips that look as soft and kissable as a baby's.

"Cat got your tongue, Mister Castle?"

His body immediately responds to the sensuality in her tone, her voice purring with undertones of, 'I like to be fucked senseless.'

"No," he smirks and reaches for her polished hand. "Just a little surprised that the rumors about your beauty **aren't** quite true."

As he clasps her hand in greeting, she quirks her eyebrow and laughs. A melodious sound which rumbles through his hand, ricochets across his chest and seems to pierce him straight through the heart.

"Well, I certainly haven't heard that line before. I have to give you props for the most original way to introduce yourself."

"'Originality' is my middle name. It comes naturally with the Writer territory."

"Mmm, a playboy author who happens to live with his mother and dote on his daughter?... I just may have to agree you have 'originality' written all over you."

"Now, I'm flattered." He flashes her his best, I'd-love-to-see-you-stark-naked-writhing-beneath-me, smiles. "I see you've been doing your homework on me."

Her eyes scan over to the end table where his last Derek Storm novel resides. "My body guard, Esposito," she informs him, "thought it might be a good idea to know a little about you before we met."

"He's a smart man."

"Yes… Among other things."

A tinge of something (he refuses to believe it could be jealousy) stabs at his gut at the implication of her words.

"I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice."

"Did I have a choice, Cas-sle?" and the way she says his last name, all creamy smooth like room-temperature butter, has him imagining her saying it while entwined in heavenly silk sheets.

"You always have a choice."

"Not in certain situations."

_Ahh, there's definitely a story here._ _This could very well take multiple meetings to pull out her secrets,_ and the thought alone has him fighting back his body's natural reaction to her.

"Would you like a drink?" She walks over to the bar and pulls out a bottle of expensive merlot; with a resounding 'pop', she removes the cork and pours the red liquid into a champagne glass.

_How the hell does she make pouring a fine wine look even sexy_? He grudgingly admits that this particular woman would make folding laundry look unbelievably hot.

"No, I'll get right down to business."

"Please do," and as she sips delicately at the wine, he can't seem to pull his eyes away from her tempting mouth.

"I understand you only service high-profile clientele."

"Yes, or rather," and she chuckles softly, "the men believe themselves to be high-profile."

"How does one make an appointment with you?"

"You're here, aren't you?" and she shakes her head from side to side, a growing smirk glistening her lips. "So you already know the answer to that question."

His laugh is full, boisterous and lights up his smoky-blue eyes. "I had to jump through hoops and practically sell my soul to get a meeting with you."

Her answering smile is natural with just a hint of flirtatiousness. "Most men do."

Well, he certainly can't argue with her there.

"Please have a seat," and she directs him to a high-back leather chair. She gracefully sits across from him, sitting down in one fluid motion that simply mesmerizes him. His eyes gravitate to her shimmery dress as the slit in front opens to expose a sinfully long leg.

His fingers curl to prevent himself from reaching out and ghosting across her silken flesh. His lips purse together, trying to prevent himself from drooling when she crosses one glorious gam over the other.

An image of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct swirls to mind… Confident in her ability to leave any man a quivering mess of desire. There's a raw, sexual chemistry about Diamond that unnerves him as well as excites him like no other woman he's met before.

"How long have you been in the business?" he croaks, hoping that mini-Castle's growing enthusiasm doesn't offend her.

"I'm still considered to be green, so not very long."

_She's certainly being as evasive as possible_.

"As you know, I'm starting a new novel and my heroine is trying to get into the business... How should I approach her becoming a 'high-class call girl'?"

As her eyebrows draw together and a faint scowl spreads across her features, he immediately apologizes. "Forgive me. I believe the correct term is 'high-end Escort'."

"It's not like you apply for the job, you have to be invited."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you have to impress someone, possibly audition for the role?"

"Something like that," she chuckles and he believes he'll never tire of hearing her laugh. "I was on the streets for awhile, barely making it, worried how I'd last another day and then, thank God, someone with authority noticed my potential and recommended me for the position."

"Interesting. So I gather this 'person of authority' saved your life?"

"In a manner, yes."

"If you're willing, I'd love to hear more about him or her."

"Sorry, no. My past isn't an open book and I intend to keep it that way."

"Understood. How do your regular clients contact you?"

"An ad in the personal section of The Times."

"Is it true that you don't have a cell phone?"

"Correct. Cell phones are easily traced and anonymity in this business is crucial to success."

Beneath her words he easily interprets she's afraid of one or two of her (quote/unquote) upstanding clients and doesn't want them having knowledge about her whereabouts.

_Clever girl._

Scratch that. She's a dangerously gorgeous, clever woman who has hidden information that beckons to the writer in him.

Who's he kidding? Everything about her beckons to the man in him.

"Is it too personal a question to ask how much you charge?"

Her grin's mischievous and if he had to describe it to anyone else, he would've said, 'downright dirty' as well.

"You can't afford me, Writerboy," she hums, knowing exactly how she's affecting him as she swings her crossed leg back and forth, the toe of her four inch strappy heel ruffling his dress pants.

He clears his throat before ogling her from toe to head, starting with her delicate ankles, up along her thin shins, magnificent thighs, curvaceous hips, flat abs, and settling on the soft mounds of her breasts.

His lips start at a self-satisfied smirk and then grow into an over-the-top-egotistical grin, like he's just won the lottery or better yet, the Nobel peace prize.

His eyes finally drag up from the twin peaks and land on her green orbs, murky in their intensity as she openly studies him.

"I never pay for intimacy, Diamond," and his voice deepens, scraping along his vocal chords. "I excel at giving pleasure to a willing woman."

He watches in fascination as she tugs on her lower lip, pulling the plumpness into her lush mouth.

He can't stop himself from reaching out and sweeping away a lock of her mid-length hair, twirling the curl delicately between his fingers before placing the loose strand behind her ear. He's careful not to touch any portion of her skin, - the outer shell of her ear, or the dainty freckle that resides just below her ear, or the sexy Marilyn Monroe mole on her left cheek which seems to be calling his name, - afraid that if he touches her, even just barely skims her skin, he'll never be able to stop.

His eyes darken to a midnight blue as he focuses on her nibbling. "I only seduce a woman who can appreciate my unique, unselfish skills in the bedroom… If you're ever interested in learning about **real **pleasure, give me a call. I'd be more than happy to share my talents with you."

"I have to say, the rumors about you, Richard Castle," and her face fills with disappointment, lips down turning softly in displeasure, "seem to be grossly true."

_Shit_, he blew it. He's overstepped his bounds.

As he loses himself in the colorful depths of her eyes, the thought crosses his mind that he may have just met the one woman who's resistant to his charms, the one woman who'll make him earn the prize, and he determines right then and there, that Diamond will not be the one woman to slip away through his fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The response to this story has been IncRediBle. Needless to say, I'm extremely grateful for all the reviews and encouragement. *You guys ROcK!*

The time frame for this story is set during season 3 because to me, Stana Katic was never more alluring... Kate's POV is up next.

**...**

**His eyes darken to a midnight blue as he focuses on her nibbling. "I only seduce a woman who can appreciate my unique, unselfish skills in the bedroom… If you're ever interested in learning about real pleasure, give me a call. I'd be more than happy to share my talents with you."**

**"I have to say, the rumors about you, Richard Castle," and her face fills with disappointment, lips down turning softly in displeasure, "seem to be grossly true."**

**_Shit_****, he blew it. He's overstepped his bounds.**

**As he loses himself in the colorful depths of her eyes, the thought crosses his mind that he may have just met the one woman who's resistant to his charms, the one woman who'll make him earn the prize, and he determines right then and there, that Diamond will not be the one woman to slip away through his fingers.**

He quickly tries to gain control of the situation by pulling out his dashing Casanova persona. "And may I say, the rumors about your beauty were greatly **under** exaggerated."

"Thank you," she sighs but annoyance is radiating off her in waves and he can practically hear her thoughts of, "Damn typical male only thinking with one body part," and he's afraid she's going to cut this meeting short before he's even begun to get to know her.

He says with genuine remorse, "It seems I'm going to be doing quite a bit of apologizing to you today." His blue gaze bores effortlessly into hers. "I in no way, shape or form meant to offend you, Diamond... Please forgive my forwardness and chalk it up to being a stereotypical, stupid, virile man."

Her lips lift at his words into a pillow-soft smile and she nods her head in agreement. "I couldn't have said it better myself… You're definitely a stupid, umm – " and her lips purse together suggestively, "virile man."

She studies him openly, looking for any type of mistrust. Her eyes lose their wariness as she takes in his sober countenance and sorrowful, puppy-dog eyes.

He must pass her test because the next moment she's leaning towards him, perky breasts practically falling out of that sinfully tight dress as she asks, "Please tell me the truth."

_Eyes up, Rick. Eyes up._

As the seconds tick by and he finds himself falling under the weight of her stare, the weight of her spell, he honestly believes any man would find it hard to lie to her.

"Try me. It's in my nature to tell the truth."

She rolls those beautiful iris's in disbelief and asks, "How many times have you used that line on a woman before?"

His face splits into a large grin, crinkly eyes and dashing dimple, displaying his joy at her question.

"Only once and certainly not in the exact same way... When I was a junior in college, barely legal to drink, and with barely little experience might I add, my buddies hauled me to an exclusive establishment where escorts were readily available. I asked one particular busty blond in her early thirties if she'd like to experience real pleasure from a masterful author's hands and she'd laughed, saying for a thousand dollars that she would teach me all about the intricacies of a woman's body."

"I gather you took her up on her offer?" Diamond's voice is quiet but with an edge of excitement, betraying how interested she is in his answer.

"No, as I said before I've never paid for sex."

There's a resounding knock on the door and the next moment Esposito's voice filters through, "Boss, you've got ten minutes."

"Thanks," she calls, before turning her full attention back on the writer, eyes clouded over in mystery. "I'm afraid we've gotten off-topic and I'm a very busy woman."

_I don't doubt it, _he thinks, naughtily conjuring up a picture of her dressed in a virginal white lace teddy with delicate little bows straining between her breasts, just beckoning to be undone with his teeth... He crosses his legs in a painful attempt to curb mini Castle's enthusiasm but his effort is thwarted when he smells ripe cherries wafting off her silken skin.

"Were there any other questions you have for me?"

"Yes," but he refuses to say that half of them would end up with her sicing her bodyguard on him and having him promptly thrown out on his ass.

"How many years do most girls stay in the business?"

"It varies greatly... but most don't last longer than five years."

From the disheartened tone in her voice he gets the impression that it's not necessarily a choice for the girls to stay or quit the business, - that the decision isn't left up to them.

"Do you actively search for new girls to join the business?"

"No, it's an exclusive position and I wouldn't wish, - " she abruptly stops speaking, worry lines marring her pretty forehead, and he can easily interrupt that she doesn't wish this life on anyone else, but he wants to hear it out of her own mouth, needs her to trust him enough to divulge the personal information.

"Care to elaborate?" he coaxes.

"To an author, no."

"You sure know how to wound a man."

"It's **one** of my specialties," she purrs smokily.

_Oh God,_ he curls his fingers into his palms, nails digging into the flesh as she definitely insinuated, '**fucking**-is-my-top-specialty'.

The afternoon light filters in through the blinds, highlighting the soft curls which brush her shoulders, the creamy unblemished skin, her cheeks caressed with a hint of blush, and he believes she just might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He clears his throat before continuing, "I gather there's a certain amount of danger to the job, hence the disgruntled bodyguard outside your door."

"Correct. I've learned I have to take certain precautions in this line of work."

His chest tightens at the implications and he continues softly, "I can only imagine some of the horrors you've faced."

"Hmm, you're very astute, Mister Castle... Guess it comes with the writer territory."

"Ah, a backhanded compliment from the lady," and he winks outrageously at her. "Careful Diamond, or whoever's on the opposite end of the listening device taped just beneath the headboard, might believe you're smitten with me."

Her eyes open wide in surprise at his revelation and she chuckles, a cute chortle that has him wishing there wasn't a camera in the room so he could do something ungentlemanly and completely inappropriate, and ...

"No chance of that," she teases, eyes sparkling with a, 'I-enjoy-putting-down-egotistical-men' glimmer. "You're definitely not my type. Tell me, have you ever had a woman refuse you before?"

"Refuse this ruggedly-handsome mug?" His fingers rub across his angular jaw line, drawing her eyes down his smooth face. "Why don't you have dinner with me and we can discuss it in depth?"

"That's a resounding, NO."

"Not even a, 'I don't think so,' or 'I'll have to check my calendar,' Or a, 'Maybe, - if you find some manners?'"

She fails to hold back a beaming smile which displays perfectly straight white teeth, and he's unbelievably giddy knowing at least she enjoys his sense of humor.

His hand covers his heart and he says with dramatic flair, "It's just a good thing I don't discourage easily because you have a talent for putting men in their place."

"Only men who believe they're God's gift to women."

"What if I happen to be able to back up that claim?"

Her lips slightly part and his mind automatically drifts to thoughts of crushing her lush mouth, - using his talented, clever tongue to punish her, - transfer some of the scalding lava that's running through his veins into her.

He longs to give her a taste of her own sensuality as he claims that delectable mouth and determines whether she sighs or moans–– or just stays silent in his arms.

She quips merrily, "You are full of yourself, aren't you?"

He doesn't speak, just focuses on her gorgeous, cat-like eyes and wonders whether or not she's a screamer... Is she cool, collected, controlled under a lover's touch or do litanies of profanity break through her lips as she comes?

The thought of faceless men touching her, - old, stuffy, rich men plundering her sweetness has his gut churning in distaste and his breath catches...

"I've taken up enough of your time," he says sincerely, hoping his change of tactic surprises her, makes her somewhat curious about him. "Thank you for your willingness to assist me."

"As I said earlier, I wasn't given much of a choice."

"It's been the highlight of my day meeting you, Diamond," he drawls. (No way in hell he'll ever divulge it's been the highlight of his year and possibly his life as well)

He grasps her hand and raises it lovingly to his lips, eyes never wavering from hers as his mouth opens suggestively along the back of her palm.

"I'll leave a business card with your bodyguard, just in case you think of something else that may," his tongue slyly snakes out and soaks his lower lip, "help with my research."

By the way her eyes float to his lips, he knows without a doubt she's not immune to the sexual undercurrent pulsing between them, but her body language and damn sassy attitude say otherwise.

_The devastating minx._

"No need to leave your card. The only place you'll be seeing me again is in your dreams."

She throws him a brazen, cheeky smile that radiates, I-don't-entertain-flamboyant-womanizers-who-think-they-can-bed-me-at-the-drop-of-a-hat.

"Goodbye, Mister Castle. It was very enlightening meeting you." She stands up and turns away from him, all lean legs and sashaying hips and is out the suite door before he can blink twice.

_Oh Fuck!_

He wipes a hand across his brow wondering when the last time he felt this inadequate around a woman, - _if_ _ever, -_ because in just 15 minutes, Diamond had done what he thought was impossible, - made him question whether or not he was charming enough, good-looking enough, man enough to ensnare a perfect ten woman.

_Let the games begin, _he thinks smugly as he picks up the delicate chain and fondles the antique ring in his fingers, seeing 'J & J Forever' engraved in the gold band.

He leaves her suite, a boyish grin adorning his face as he approaches the uptight hispanic, noticing his stiff posture and steamy beady eyes.

_Uh-Oh, trouble between the lady and her bodyguard,_ and his grin widens to egotistical proportions because he invariably knows the trouble is **_him._**

He stands close to Esposito, invading his personal space and with an air of, 'Yes, I'm the man,' stuffs his business card in the hispanic's leather jacket. "Don't lose this card as I'm expecting to hear from her again **Ve-Ry** soon."

"Not happening, bro," the Hispanic grates, glaring daggers at the author.

As he's walking away, it doesn't even bother him when he hears the bodyguard ripping the card to shreds, because he's got an almost fool proof plan... One where the illustrious Diamond will be calling him and seeking him out.


	3. Chapter 3

**A special thanks to Retired1984 & you know why ;)**

**Diamond's / Kate's POV.**

**...**

If she didn't owe Captain Roy Montgomery her life, she wouldn't have agreed to meet the writer.

Richard Castle, author extraordinaire, flamboyant womanizer and officially a top-notch cad in her book wants to meet her, an up and coming escort with Mommy issues.

How did she get to be so damn **un**lucky?

_No,_ she tries to convince herself, the skip in her beating heart isn't excitement over meeting her favorite author.

_No_, she's not hoping he's as good-looking or quirkily brilliant or quite as notorious for his skills in the bedroom, as the tabloids portray.

No, adrenaline isn't rushing through her system over her expectations of him.

And no, (her eyes swipe over his jacket photo one more time) she hasn't been glancing at his picture all morning long thinking if he's just as handsome in person, she might throw caution to the wind and break her number one rule.

She approaches the concierge desk, all sweet sophistication for the one man whom she knows has her back.

She's extremely lucky to have a kind-hearted pimp who truly cares about his girls, does research on the men first to make sure they're reputable, decent, without a hidden violent streak. She's grateful the Captain recommended Kevin Ryan to her after that fateful day a year ago as she honestly doesn't know where she'd be if he hadn't of rescued her… She'd needed someone to save her from herself, be a friend as well as a protector, be the brother she never had, and Ryan certainly fit the bill.

"This one's easy, Diamond," the Irishman spoke warmly. "No need to worry. Just a curious author who wants to gather information from the best."

"Nothing's ever easy. Especially with a man who's notorious for being the next Casanova."

"I'm confidant you can handle him or I wouldn't have allowed the meeting."

"Oh, I can handle him all right," she drawls. "It's satisfying his curiosity I'm worried about… Has Esposito arrived?"

"Yes, he's making sure the recording equipment is set up properly in your room."

"Is there a concern with Mister Castle?"

"No. You know my motto though: It's better to be safe than sorry."

"I couldn't agree with you more… When you see the author, please tell him I'm ready for him.

Ryan's easy, light laughter lifts her spirits and calms her fraying nerves. "The question is, - is he ready for you?"

"Is any man?" she quips with a bright, confidant grin, - twirling her mother's ring around her neck for the second time that day.

"No heterosexual man," he agrees. "You look extremely lovely this afternoon… The poor man doesn't stand a chance."

_No, he doesn't,_ she thinks humorously while thanking Ryan for the compliment, and she strolls away from him nonchalantly, tamping down her sixth sense which is screaming she might very well be the one who doesn't stand a chance.

She briefly speaks to Esposito before heading to her room. "Impress upon Mister Castle the only thing that's going to happen between us is **talking.**"

"You got it, Diamond," her part-time bodyguard replies, flashing his overtly-masculine smile which betrays how much he loves showing her clients who's in charge.

She heads into her room and turns on the listening device, knowing Esposito records his conversations with her clients, hoping she can glean a bit of information about the writer before she sees him.

She taps her 4-inch strappy heel impatiently and about jumps out of her skin when she first hears his voice, - rich, deep, smooth as Richard Hennessy cognac.

"I'm Rick Castle here to meet with the infamous Diamond."

_Oh Gawd, _he sounds exactly as she imagined, - sensual, dangerous, with a bad-boy vibe that emanates through every syllable.

"Don't try anything with her," Esposito warns, "or you won't like the consequences."

She smirks at her ever-faithful bodyguard's threatening tone and is grateful she isn't pouring herself a drink when she hears Castle's response, or the expensive merlot would've spilled everywhere.

"Don't worry. I promise she'll stay as virtuous as she is right now. I only have a few questions for her."

_Kate, you're in serious trouble, _because her weakness is a charming, self-assured man with a sense of humor, - and this one sounds like he's smug, funny and .._._

"Questions only," Espo growls. "Follow me."

She quickly turns off the monitor and dabs her favorite perfume on her wrists as well as behind her knees, a fruity concoction with the distinct scent of cherries.

She doesn't want to give him a clue as to how unsettled she is, (no need to boost his ego) so she decides to remove her necklace to prevent her hands from fiddling with it.

She hears the door to her suite open, and a few seconds later he calls her name, but her back is too him as he enters the sitting area. She finishes removing the necklace and sets it aside before turning to face him.

With a coy smile, she breathes, "So you're the famous author, Richard Castle?" and _Wow ... _She's suddenly staring into eyes bluer than a bed of blue hydrangeas and look kinder and gentler than Mother Teresa.

She's taken back by his obvious admiration of her beauty. His pupils dilate and his mouth falls slightly open as his eyes rake over her face and he looks so adorably dumbstruck that she can't help teasing, "Cat got your tongue, Mister Castle?"

"No," he smirks and reaches for her polished hand. "Just a little surprised the rumors about your beauty **aren't **quite true."

Her eyebrow quirks as the laughter bubbles up and over, spiraling out of her chest, and she's surprisingly pleased the man is as smooth-as-his-voice.

"Well, I certainly haven't heard that line before. I have to give you props for the most original way to introduce yourself."

"'Originality' is my middle name. It comes naturally with the Writer territory."

"Mmm, a playboy author who happens to live with his mother and dote on his daughter?... I just may have to agree, - you have 'originality' written all over you."

"Now, I'm flattered." He flashes her a, 'I'm-going-to-have-the-time-of-my-life-making-you-my-next-conquest,' smile. "I see you've been doing your homework on me."

Did she actually let that slip? She'll never live it down if he finds out she's a fan.

Her eyes scan over to the end table where his latest Derek Storm novel resides. "My body guard, Esposito," she informs him, "thought it might be a good idea to know a little about you before we met."

"He's a smart man."

"Yes… Among other things," and she tempers a grin thinking the author would get a kick out of learning Esposito's a homicide Detective.

"I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice."

The sincerity in his tone seeps through her skin and draws goosebumps along her flesh.

"Did I have a choice, Cas-sle?" she purrs, slipping easily into Diamond's persona, enjoying the effect she's having on him.

"You always have a choice."

"Not in certain situations," flies out of her mouth before she thinks about it and then she silently berates herself for raising his curiosity about her personal life.

She can't handle another complication in her life right now... Especially one of the 6 foot 2, blue-eyed kind.

"Would you like a drink?" she asks, needing to put some distance between her and his massively broad chest and masculine thighs and the undeniable aura of, 'I-can-bring-a-woman-to-ecstasy-in-less-than-five-minutes-flat'.

She walks over to the bar and takes a deep breath, pulling out the Italian merlot and with a resounding 'pop', removes the cork and pours the red liquid into a champagne glass, hoping her slightly-shaky fingers are hidden from view.

"No, I'll get right down to business," he says firmly and she sighs in gratitude because the sooner this meeting's over, the better.

She's not used to feeling this frazzled, upended in her own territory, especially by a man.

"Please do," she replies and sips delicately at the wine, noticing his eyes are pulled to her lips.

"I understand you only service high-profile clientele."

"Yes, or rather," she chuckles softly, "the men believe themselves to be high-profile."

"How does one make an appointment with you?"

"You're here, aren't you?" and she shakes her head from side to side, a growing smirk glistening her lips at the eagerness in his voice. "So you already know the answer to that question."

His laugh is full, boisterous and lights up his smoky-blue eyes... She believes they just might be the most beautiful eyes she's ever seen before on a man.

"I had to jump through hoops and practically sell my soul to get a meeting with you."

Her answering smile is natural with just a hint of flirtatiousness. "Most men do."

She directs him to a high-back leather chair, far enough away that his European cologne isn't distracting her and yet, close enough so she can read him easily and possibly tease him mercilessly. "Please have a seat."

As she sits across from him, his eyes noticeably drop to her legs, and she finds herself curious about whether he's a leg or breast man. She allows the slit in the front of her dress to open sinfully, exposing 80% of her thigh and with a seductive, 'I-know-exactly-how-I'm-affecting-you' smile, crosses one leg over the other, swinging the crossed leg temptingly towards him.

The croak in his voice as well as _umm_, the delightful, growing problem in his pants, tells her he's more of a leg man.

"How long have you been in the business?"

"I'm still considered to be green, so not very long," skirting particulars that she doesn't want generally known.

"As you know, I'm starting a new novel and my heroine is trying to get into the business... How should I approach her becoming a 'high-class call girl'?"

She cringes at the term, 'call girl,' bloody well hates it, and it must show in her appearance as the author immediately apologizes. "Forgive me. I believe the correct term is 'high-end Escort'."

She smothers the notion that he might even be sexier when he's remorseful.

"It's not like you apply for the job, you have to be invited."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you have to impress someone, possibly audition for the role?"

He's gazing at her as if she's a rare piece of artwork... Titian's "Venus of Urbino" comes to mind as his eyes trail over her form.

"Something like that," she chuckles, hoping to short-circuit the electricity in the room. "I was on the streets for awhile, barely making it, worried how I'd last another day and then, thank God, someone with authority noticed my potential and recommended me for the position."

"Interesting. So I gather this 'person of authority' saved your life?"

"In a manner, yes."

"If you're willing, I'd love to hear more about him or her."

"Sorry, no. My past isn't an open book and I intend to keep it that way."

She won't allow a probing author with a face as appealing as George Clooney, and a body that puts Bruce Willis to shame, to try and unbury all the juicy tidbits of her past.

Ryan's insight filters through her thoughts. "What you need, Diamond, is a good, gentle, successful man who's still in touch with his inner child. One who can value you for who you truly are and not just focus on the sex symbol you portray."

She'd laughingly told him that that man didn't exist in the entire state of New York, and this author sitting across from her certainly doesn't fall into the category... At least, she won't allow herself the chance to get to know him enough to find out.

"Understood," Castle said sincerely. "How do your regular clients contact you?"

"An ad in the personal section of The Times."

"Is it true you don't have a cell phone?"

"Correct. Cell phones are easily traced and anonymity in this business is crucial to success."

_More like crucial to staying alive,_ but she isn't willing to divulge that information.

"Is it too personal a question to ask how much you charge?"

She knew the question was coming, - expected it even, - but with him asking all devilishly, with wicked bright eyes, she can't help but respond in kind.

"You can't afford me, Writerboy," she hums, swinging her crossed leg back and forth, purposefully ruffling his, 'I'm-a-bad-man-in-this-business-suit', pant leg with her strappy toe.

A rush of heat slides to her loins as he openly ogles her from toe to head, - starting with her delicate ankles, up along her shins, thighs, curvaceous hips, flat abs, and settling on the soft mounds of her breasts.

_Jesus, _she can practically feel the pads of his fingers caressing her flesh while he systematically undresses her with his eyes.

His full lips, no doubt born to kiss, start at a self-satisfied smirk and then grow into an over-the-top-egotistical grin, man-pride oozing from his outrageous smile. As his eyes finally drag up from the twin peaks and land on hers, she senses what he's going to say.

"I never pay for intimacy, Diamond... I excel at giving pleasure to a willing woman."

_Fuck,_ this man is good, and h_ow the hell does he make his voice sound straight out of a porno film?_

She tugs on her lower lip, pulling the plumpness into her mouth, wondering what lengths he'll go to, to try and bed her.

She's mesmerized as he reaches out and sweeps away a lock of her mid-length hair, twirling the curl delicately between his fingers before placing the loose strand behind her ear. She feels the heat radiating from his fingers, expects him to caress the outer shell of her ear, or swipe down the smooth line of her neck but disappointingly so, his touch never finds her flesh.

His eyes darken to a rough midnight hue as he restrains himself from touching her, focuses on her nibbling.

"I only seduce a woman who can appreciate my unique, unselfish skills in the bedroom… If you're ever interested in learning about real pleasure, give me a call. I'd be more than happy to share my talents with you."

It impales her then, like a Gladiator's battle sword, the utterly dangerous man Richard Castle could be to her...

She's used to being in control, commandeering the situation, only letting a man close enough to skim the surface but never letting him get under her skin.

Somehow, almost instantaneously, this way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good-author with a devil-may-care attitude, is clawing into her flesh with every husk of his voice and fevered glance, giving her the clear impression she'd enjoy every minute of it, _of_ _him_, if she'd only let her guard down and relinquish the reins.

That's **never **going to happen.

She has a strict code, one she lives by religiously, and this man, whose torrid gaze is piercing her soul, trying to ignite a fire within her that has long since been dormant, is not going to break her.

No man ever has, or **ever** will.

"I have to say, the rumors about you, Richard Castle," and her face fills with disappointment, lips down turning softly in displeasure, "seem to be grossly true."


	4. Chapter 4

Continuing Diamond's / Kate's POV

**...**

**It impales her then, like a Gladiator's battle sword, the utterly dangerous man Richard Castle could be to her...**

**She's used to being in control, commandeering the situation, only letting a man close enough to skim the surface but never letting him get under her skin.**

**Somehow, almost instantaneously, this way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good-author with a devil-may-care attitude, is clawing into her flesh with every husk of his voice and fevered glance, giving her the clear impression she'd enjoy every minute of it, of him, if she'd only let her guard down and relinquish the reins.**

**That's **never** going to happen.**

**She has a strict code, one she lives by religiously, and this man, whose torrid gaze is piercing her soul, trying to ignite a fire within her that has long since been dormant, is not going to break her.**

**No man ever has, or **ever** will.**

**"I have to say, the rumors about you, Richard Castle," and her face fills with disappointment, lips down turning softly in displeasure, "seem to be grossly true."**

The words were meant to sting, hopefully to discourage his advances, but she's surprised by his reaction, - the forlorn, hurt look in his eyes, the air of a wounded man.

She's undeniably nicked a chink in his Casanova-armor, and she's grasping at straws, wondering how she feels about being the one to cause him pain, but not willing to analyze her feelings too closely.

He flounders for a moment before good manners kick in and he replies, "And may I say, the rumors about your beauty were greatly **under **exaggerated."

"Thank you," she sighs, honestly intrigued by the hidden depths to this man as he's purely more than just an egotistical womanizer like the tabloids portray.

Castle says with genuine remorse, "It seems I'm going to be doing quite a bit of apologizing to you today." His blue gaze bores effortlessly into hers, reflecting sorrow. "I in no way, shape or form meant to offend you, Diamond... Please forgive my forwardness and chalk it up to being a stereotypical, stupid, virile man."

_Yep, it's now confirmed. He's 100% sexier when he's remorseful._

She nods her head in agreement, can't help smirking at his self-derision. "I couldn't have said it better myself… You're definitely a stupid, umm – " and her lips purse together suggestively as she contemplates just how virile a man he really is, - "virile man."

She studies him openly, - his regal blue, playful orbs, - soft lines surrounding his mouth and eyes revealing hours of laughter, - the furrowed line between his eyebrows signifying intense concentration, - the wide, full lips which were destined to make a woman scream.

"Please tell me the truth," and she hates the breathy begging of her voice. She leans forward in anticipation of his response and silently basks in the power she has over him when his eyes immediately zero in on her breasts.

She can practically feel her nipples tingling from his, 'I-am-the-master-at-making-a-woman-come', body language.

As the seconds tick by, she finds herself swirling in a vortex of yearning with him, the weight of his desire pressing into her, taking her breath away.

"Try me. It's in my nature to tell the truth."

She rolls her eyes in disbelief, wondering if he really is as suave and downright debonair as he portrays to be, and asks, "How many times have you used that line on a woman before?"

His face splits into a large grin, crinkly eyes and dashing dimple, displaying his joy at her question.

"Only once and certainly not in the exact same way... When I was a junior in college, barely legal to drink, and with barely little experience might I add, my buddies hauled me to an exclusive establishment where escorts were readily available. I asked one particular busty blond in her early thirties if she'd like to experience real pleasure from a masterful author's hands and she'd laughed, saying for a thousand dollars that she would teach me all about the intricacies of a woman's body."

"I gather you took her up on her offer?" and she hopes he can't decipher the curiosity in her voice as she wills her eyes to stay aligned with his, refusing to cave to the desire to drop them dangerously to his crotch.

"No, as I said before I've never paid for sex."

_Mmm, that's a serious, fuckin turn-on._

Thank God there's a resounding knock on the door to interrupt Castle's, 'I-can't-wait-to-slowly-peel-off-all-of-your-clothes,' demeanor and the next moment Esposito's voice filters through, "Boss, you've got ten minutes."

"Thanks," she calls, deciding it's time to defuse this chemistry time bomb, end this flirtatious fun that's making her feel unhinged and slightly out of control, not her usual bad-ass self.

She definitely needs to get back to work.

"I'm afraid we've gotten off-topic and I'm a very busy woman."

Her eyes are drawn to his legs as he crosses one over the other. Long, strong, massive muscles with the ability, she bets, to go all night long.

Focus Kate, Focus.

She asks a touch abruptly, "Were there any other questions you have for me?"

"Ye - sz," but from the intentional husk in his voice she gets the impression several of them are naughty, and he doesn't have the balls to ask.

"How many years do most girls stay in the business?"

"It varies greatly," and her voice softens at the implications, "but most don't last longer than five years."

She can tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes that he's gleaned the truth from her that it's not necessarily up to the girls whether or not they stay in the business.

"Do you actively search for new girls to join the business?"

"No, it's an exclusive position and I wouldn't wish, - " she can't fathom how this man seems to be a 'truth magnet' for her, with an uncanny ability to start her talking and accidentally spilling things, - secrets which need to remain hidden.

Her eyebrows scrunch together as she debates about whether or not to end this meeting early, not willing to divulge anything more private about her life, and yet, unwilling for it to come back and bite Montgomery in the ass if she isn't cooperative.

"Care to elaborate?" he coaxes.

"To an author, no."

"You sure know how to wound a man."

She can't help herself as he's just so damn adorable when she teases him mercilessly so she purrs smokily, "It's one of my specialties," knowing that he'll naturally infer, 'fucking' is her primary one.

He doesn't disappoint as his batting eyelashes and clogged throat and obvious growing arousal indicate where his dirty mind has gone.

He clears his throat before asking, "I gather there's a certain amount of danger to the job, hence the disgruntled bodyguard outside your door."

"Correct. I've learned I have to take certain precautions in this line of work."

He looks at her, blue-eyes tender pools of concern. "I can only imagine some of the horrors you've faced."

"Hmm, you're very astute, Mister Castle... Guess it comes with the writer territory."

"Ah, a backhanded compliment from the lady," and his outrageous wink makes her toes curl. "Careful Diamond, or whoever's on the opposite end of the listening device taped just beneath the headboard, might believe you're smitten with me."

She opens her eyes wide in surprise at his revelation and she chuckles, a cute chortle which she's afraid betrays he just might be right.

"No chance of that," she teases, not willing to let him have the upper hand. "You're definitely not my type. Tell me, - have you ever had a woman refuse you before?"

"Refuse this ruggedly-handsome mug?" His fingers rub across his angular jaw line, drawing her eyes down his smooth face. "Why don't you have dinner with me and we can discuss it in depth?"

But there's no, 'just dinner,' with this man as his voice implies a sweaty, steamy night amongst luxurious Scandia linens for dessert.

"That's a resounding, NO," but her heart's running rampant in her chest, yelling to rescind her answer, just let loose for once, give into temptation and let him cater to her every need.

"Not even a, 'I don't think so,' or 'I'll have to check my calendar,' Or a, 'Maybe, - if you find some manners?'"

Her unabashed, care-free smile breaks free, all straight, white teeth and healthy gums… She fervently hopes she isn't giving away her thoughts of, "This man shouldn't be allowed to roam free among the unsuspecting female population."

Castle's hand covers his heart and he says with dramatic flair, "It's just a good thing I don't discourage easily because you have a talent for putting men in their place."

"Only men who believe they're God's gift to women."

"What if I happen to be able to back up that claim?"

Her lips slightly part as his words conjure up a room scattered with rose petals, a roaring fireplace, thick, lamb rug and his gloriously nude body splayed out next to her.

Those spell-binding eyes are honing in on her as if her flesh is a writer's notebook and he can't wait to write words of uncontrollable lust & beauty along every fine edge and soft surface, - using his tongue as his pen.

"You are full of yourself, aren't you?"

And then he does something she never would've expected, something that no man has ever done before, leaving an indelible imprint of him on her mind, _the sneaky bastard._

He actually ends their session early.

"I've taken up enough of your time," he says sincerely. "Thank you for your willingness to assist me."

She tries to bring the ball back in her court by quipping, "As I said earlier, I wasn't given much of a choice."

"It's been the highlight of my day meeting you, Diamond," he drawls and as his hand grasps hers, a jolt of awareness skyrockets up her arm.

She's mesmerized as he raises her hand lovingly to his lips, eyes never wavering from hers as his mouth opens suggestively along the back of her palm.

Her insides quiver and turn to a molten mess, and she refuses to admit the only person who can assuage this burning is the one who caused it in the first place.

"I'll leave a business card with your bodyguard, just in case you think of something else that may," his tongue slyly snakes out and soaks his lower lip, "help with my research."

Oh Gawd, by his, 'I'm-never-going-to-forget-the-way-you-look-right-now,' expression and the sensual swipe across his lower lip, she knows those lips will be calling her name the next time he satisfies his baser, carnal need.

The man before her is pure and simple a walking, talking sexual temptation and she can't deal with that particular complexity in her life right now… Especially since Captain Montgomery and Esposito have finally made some progress in her mother's case.

The lady in her, the one who can't remember the last time she didn't fake an orgasm, the one who's buried beneath the rubble of her mother's murder, longs for the day when she can trust a man enough to give into him completely, surrender herself willingly and without reservation, and find the release she's been looking for, the intimacy her body craves.

Her heart whispers to give Castle a chance, his kind blue eyes portraying he could possibly be that man, but a tinge of fear weaves its way along her spine, scaring her shitless.

She needs to get back in control of the situation and **end this **before it's even begun.

"No need to leave your card. The only place you'll be seeing me again is in your dreams."

She throws him a devastating smile as a parting gift. "Goodbye, Mister Castle. It was very enlightening meeting you."

Before he can respond, she stands up and turns away from him, walking quickly to the suite door. She congratulates herself on successfully fighting the urge to turn back around and look once more at his incredibly handsome face...

As the door closes behind her, she comes face to face with her bodyguard, dark eyes flashing in righteous anger.

"Jesus, Diamond," he scolds, "You were supposed to curb his curiosity, throw him a few bread crumbs, not awaken the beast... You may have compromised the entire operation."

"I know, I know," she rakes her hand through her hair in frustration. "I take full responsibility. Make sure Mister Castle understands this was his first and **last **meeting with me... I've got to speak with Montgomery," and then she's rushing down the hallway, wanting to put as much space between her and the 6 foot 2, walking, talking, breathing temptation as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all so much for your patience with this chapter… My heart was completely crushed after the devastating finale and it's been difficult finding my muse again. **

**The characters took me in a different direction than I originally intended, and my romantic heart won out in the end. I apologize in advance for the sap, lol.**

**Thanks for continuing to travel this AU journey with me and I promise to finish this story, no matter how long it takes.**

**purpl_angel**

**…**

As soon as Rick leaves the hotel, he takes Diamond's necklace into a jeweler he knows he can trust and asks the owner to please supervise the repair himself as he noticed the clasp is loose.

"Please be careful with the necklace as the chain is delicate. I'd like the clasp replaced as well as the wedding ring cleaned."

The tone of his voice must give him away as Rahjid asks, "Ah, Mizter Castle, you care about this lady, huh?"

_Care to fuck her, yes,_ but his heart suddenly constricts at the thought, betraying it could easily become more than just physical with her.

"Is it that obvious?" he chuckles. "Yes, she's someone special and there's a large tip in it for you if I can pick it up tomorrow."

"It'z not a problem. Only the bezt for you."

"My sincere thanks, Rahjid."

**...**

It takes less than 24 hours for her pimp to call him, upset about him snooping through Diamond's suite and taking something personal of hers.

"Mister Ryan, please accept my apology. Diamond stormed out of the suite so quickly I didn't have the chance to tell her I noticed the clasp on her necklace was loose… I looked for her in the lobby of the hotel, but as you already know, she left immediately after our meeting." He pauses, lets his words sink in, hoping he doesn't read between the lines.

"I've seen a lot of different tricks in my time to get Diamond's attention, but this one is a new low… I'm pleased to tell you it backfired… Bring her necklace to me within the next two hours or I'm slapping a burglary charge on your ass."

He knew it could possibly go this way, hell, even expected it, but he wasn't going to let an overprotective Irishman or a bulldozer bodyguard stop him from seeing her again.

"We both know the charges won't stick as I have the Mayor on speed dial. Rest assured, she will get her necklace back. The repair should be done in three days so I'm happy to bring it to her this Friday. I'll accommodate any time she requests."

"You won't be seeing her again," Ryan reinforced. "You can bring it directly to me. This week, I'll be staying at the Ritz Carlton. You can drop it off at the front desk."

"If she wants the jewelry back, my one condition is she meets me face to face," his forceful tone brooks, 'no argument'. "It's non-negotiable... If she'd rather, she can give me a monetary value of the chain and wedding ring. I'm willing to pay any amount she deems necessary."

Rick crosses his fingers in hopes the sentimental value of the necklace is worth more to her than the actual money.

"You do realize you're playing with fire?"

_Oh I certainly do… The most beautiful flame I hope to ever be singed by._

Ryan rushes on, "And let me warn you, you don't want to trifle with this ball of fire. I've seen many men get irreparably burned."

"I don't doubt it, but I'm willing to take the chance… If I promise to never bother you or Diamond again, will you give her my message?"

"You've put me in a precarious spot as I hate to be manipulated, but even more so, I hate to see Diamond in that position."

Castle's laughter is buoyant and lightens the mood between them. "I don't think **any** man could ever manipulate her. From just the short amount of time I've spent with her, she exudes a rare self-confidence I've never seen in a woman before. She's amazingly beautiful, effervescent, as well as intelligent. She's definitely one-of-a-kind."

"I couldn't agree with you more... It seems you've already fallen under her spell."

"Something like that," Rick answers, thinking he'd love her 'spell' to wrap around his torso and boldly take him, torture him senseless where he can't even remember his own name.

Ryan chuckles, "As long as I don't have to hear your radio-ad voice again, I'll put in a good word for you."

_Well, chalk one up for her likeable pimp._

"Rest assured, I'm as good-as-my-word. I'm sure Mayor Weldon vouched for me or I wouldn't have been able to meet with her in the first place."

"He did. I can't promise she'll meet with you, but I will relay your message."

"That's all I'm asking for."

"That's all you'll be asking for period," Ryan states with finality and then the line's dead, buzzing loudly in his ear.

**…**

He can't believe he misses her call, stuck in a horrendously boring meeting at Hyperion.

As he listens to her voicemail, hears the underlying anger in her tone, his groin starts to throb in cadence with his heart…

_How does she sound even fuckin' sexier with malice dripping from her tone?_

She's clipped, rushed and gets straight to the point, telling him she'll be at the Asiate Restaurant inside the Mandarin Oriental Hotel this Friday night between 6 – 8 pm.

"You can drop by anytime but I'm letting you know in advance that I'll be _working_."

It's easy to interpret from the emphasis on 'working,' she's going to try and raise his hackles by touting another man in front of him, _the tempting seductress. _

And then she closes with, "I'll only be able to spare a few minutes for you."

_I'll only need a few minutes if all goes according to plan, _but his gut churns with nervousness, knowing he'll have to use every trick in the Casanova handbook to try and impress her and even then, he could very well fall short in her eyes.

He doesn't believe he's ever been this tied up in knots over a woman before, or had to work this hard to vie for a woman's attention.

And even worse, he has to keep shoving down the notion that the stakes have never been higher for his own personal happiness.

**…**

He doesn't need to see her haunting, gold-flecked eyes dance in his direction to know she's close by, doesn't need to see her dark tresses looped up in an elegant twist, blush highlighting her model cheekbones, doesn't need to see those skyscraper legs which remind him of Bar Refaeli's, - he only needs to hear her tinkling laughter and his eyes are pulled across the crowded restaurant directly to her.

She's facing him, eyes alight with mischief as she laughs at something her companion has just said.

She's a vision in white wearing a silk halter dress, the plunging neckline exposing hints of luscious, swelled breasts. With her hair up, her oval face is more pronounced, the lean line of her neck open to him, beckoning him to sink his teeth into the creamy skin of her jugular.

After just a few moments of staring at her heavenly beauty, sex appeal dripping from her flesh with every blink of her thick lashes and lift of her baby pink lips, - the blood pools south, making him achingly hard in an embarrassingly short time.

He doubts if his reaction to her will diminish with time, - doubts if he'll ever get enough of her, - can picture a thousand different ways to make them both shatter in ecstasy.

It's as if a magnetic cloud descends upon the room and the current quickly, inexplicably sparks and ensnares them, her eyes crashing into his.

Her hazel orbs reflect something mystical, exciting, and a surge of desire pulses through his veins as she rises from her chair.

She walks towards him with purpose, all alluring feminine form, the full length gown swaying at her ankles adorned in Jimmy-Choo-fuck-me-lavender-heels. Her body's siren call makes him lick his lips in anticipation, desiring to haul her to the nearest secluded room, (even a coat or janitor's closet would do) anywhere where they can be alone and he can worship her delectable curves the way she deserves...

Her eyes are flaming and her walk is stilted and _bloody hell,_ she's not wearing a bra, her pebbled nipples calling his name with each and every step she takes.

Everything about her screams she's furious with him; he can practically see the steam rising from off her body as she advances towards him with dire intentions.

_How do I direct her righteous anger towards the bedroom?_ he thinks before she's right in front of him, cheeks fraught with color, lips pursed in agitation, her glorious chest heaving from the effort.

_Forget the beefy bodyguard, I'm not going to survive her,_ and he pastes on his, 'I'm-really-just-a-lovable-huggable-teddy-bear-beneath-the-Casanova-persona,' smile.

"Diamond, how lovely to see you again," he greets her warmly, all male dashing personality with killer-sexy motives, but before he can continue, she's interrupting him.

"Don't say another word."

Her icy tone has him fidgeting, worrying he won't be charming or brilliant enough to pull himself out of the hole he's dug himself into.

She holds out her hand, palm face up in a cupping shape, speaking abruptly, "My necklace please."

He pulls the chain out of his front pocket, his thumb rubbing over the antique ring, and with pleading eyes asks, "May I just have five minutes? Can we please sit down so I can explain something to you?"

"Let you explain why you're such a jack-ass? Let you explain how you get your jollies stealing jewelry from unsuspecting women? Let you explain why you felt justified taking something priceless from me, - that it was the only way you could think of to see me again?" Her eyes rake over his face, distaste painting her beautiful features. "No thank you. I've heard it all before. Our business is done, Mister Castle."

His eyes spark midnight blue as her words cut deep, a shard of pain pricking its way through his bloodstream, rushing towards his heart.

_Does she really see me as such a callous bastard?_

His eyes never leave hers as his voice drops low, filled with emotion. "I wanted to explain why I was drawn to the necklace in the first place… Why the inscription on the ring touched something deep within me. Why, - when I noticed the clasp was loose, I couldn't stop myself from picking it up and taking it to a jeweler whom I trust, who I knew would take special care of it, … but it's obvious my impulsiveness was a mistake. I apologize for being intrusive, for overstepping my bounds. I never meant to hurt you, Diamond. Hopefully, you'll be able to forgive me one day."

Unconsciously he moves towards her, his hands aching to touch her flawless skin at least once, hoping to file away the sensory memory and pull it back up again on long, lonely nights.

The next moment he's standing behind her, inhaling vanilla and cherry blossoms, hating how her scent will fuel his wet dreams for many months to come.

His hands slightly shake as he places the chain around her neck, his fingers skimming the delicate arch of her collarbone. He pauses as an indescribable urge assails him to place his lips in the crook of her neck, taste the sweetness hidden there.

"Don't worry, you'll never have to see me again," floats over her ear in a whisper-pained caress while he clasps the necklace completely.

She's turns around, - all liquid hazel, questioning orbs but he misses it as his eyes are embedded on the ring nestled softly in the valley of her breasts.

"Beautiful," he says with sensual undertones. "You should never take if off. It's right where it belongs, - close to your heart."

He turns away from her, determined to get as far away as possible from her hourglass figure and brutal, cunning lips that know how to destroy a man.

"Cas – tle," she calls but he just keeps walking, determined to reach the bar and lose himself in a potent bottle of whiskey.

It's not her second attempt to reach him which has him stopping in his tracks, but the tell-tale, deep voice of a livid man which makes him pause.

"Diamond, I'm the one who's paying for your time. Get back to our table, - **now**."

"Just a moment, Trent. I need a few minutes."

"No, I'm not waiting any longer."

A sound parts from her lips then which he never expected to hear, - a sound that has the hairs on his arms standing on end and his senses on full alert.

Her squeal of fright turns his blood cold, has him turning towards her, ready to take matters in his own hands and defend her in a heartbeat.

A man in his early 50's, burly, with cold brown eyes, wearing Armani like it's a second skin, has his hand clamped over her bicep.

Her eyes are wide, surprised, like a deer-caught-in-the-headlights and her voice portrays underlying fear as she says, "Let go of me."

"For the amount of money I'm paying you, I expect your sinful body next to me every single second." He pulls her arm roughly, dragging her towards him.

Rick sees red, - a bright, agonizing color, and in a flash, he's positioned himself in front of her companion, his blue eyes blazing, hissing through clenched teeth, "I suggest you do as the lady requests and release her, - i_mmediately_."

The man laughs, - a sickening sound of someone who feels superior, someone who's used to getting his way. "You don't know her then as she's certainly **not** a lady… Move out of my way."

"How unfortunate your mother never taught you some manners." Rick takes a step closer to the man, going toe-to-toe with him, menacing intent radiating off his large frame. "And now you owe the_ lady_ an apology… Release her now and ask her forgiveness or you won't like the consequences."

"Are you actually threatening me?"

"Take it anyway you like, Tre - nnt," Rick sneers, slurring his name like it's a filthy swear word. "But either way, you're letting go of her right now."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Disdain flows from Diamond as she addresses the older man, yanking her arm forcefully from his grasp. "He happens to be the gentleman I'm leaving with… Our date is over. Go find Mister Ryan and tell him I said you could have a full refund."

Her eyes soften as she looks upon Castle, voice hinting at a mysterious night to come. "Rick, will you get me out of here?"

She's looking at him with those gorgeous expressive eyes, gratitude shining from their depths and something infinitely darker which he hopes to unravel before the evening ends.

"Yes, I'd be honored to."

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Esposito barreling down on them.

Just as Diamond links her arm through his, Trent growls, "You don't get to decide when our date ends," and his slimy hand curls itself around her neck, squeezing softly. "I do."

Rick's response is instantaneous. His left elbow slams backward into Trent's ribs, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He's facing him in a millisecond, fist curled tightly into a ball and he strikes the older man with a right hook, hitting him directly in the nose.

The crunching sound of bone fills the air and blood starts oozing from his nostrils as he stumbles backward. Esposito grabs him before he falls to the ground and wraps up both his wrists, twisting one arm painfully behind his back.

"Sorry I didn't get to the party in time," he says jovially, grinning haughtily when Trent winces as he yanks harder on his arm. "Are you okay, Diamond?"

"Yes, a little shaken, but I'm fine thanks to Writer-Boy here."

Esposito looks dumbstruck as he gives Castle the once over. "Never thought I'd be saying this to you, but you have nice arm, bro… For a _writer._"

His accent makes it sound like writing's the prissiest job on the planet and has Rick chuckling, "Thanks for the compliment."

"Seriously though, thank you for taking care of my girl."

"Anytime. It was my pleasure." His eyes openly caress Diamond's face, tracing the feminine curve of her cheek, falling along her slim neck, - looking for any sign she's truly hurt and is only placating them.

His baby blues fill with unchecked desire, as well as an underlying promise for a tempting future if she'll just give them a chance. "I'm hoping she'll let me take care of her again in the very near future."

_Take care of every intimate, salacious need._

"I'm happy to give you a few pointers on taming this wildcat," Trent sarcastically sneers.

"Shut up," Esposito threatens, "or I'll do it for you… Diamond, you want to file charges against this asshole?"

"No," she tears her eyes reluctantly away from Rick's. "Make sure he's escorted out of here and put directly in a cab. I'll have Ryan issue him a full refund on condition he never tries to contact me again."

"Did you hear that, sleazebag? If you ever try to reach Diamond again, I'll personally make sure a restraining order is filed against you and your ass is thrown in jail. Got it?"

Trent grumbles something affirmative as Esposito half hauls, half drags him towards the door, but his parting shot's raunchy, meant to deliberately offend, and Castle has to consciously restrain himself from flying after the man and beating him senseless.

"She's spoiled goods. Enjoy my leftovers if you can."

It's clear his words hit the mark as Diamond tenses next to him, her body rigid, eyes downcast as she says, "Please take me away from here."

"I'll take you where ever you want to go," and his hand clasps hers, her warm palm shooting flames of lust and unsurpassed longing through his entire frame.

As he leads her out of the restaurant, taking in her graceful walk, the aura of pure beauty that surrounds her, - both inside and out,- he feels an undeniable, irrevocable connection to her.

And for the first time in his life, Richard Castle rejoices in the possibility that he may have just found his missing half.


	6. Chapter 6

**Diamond's / Kate's POV: **

She's grateful the money's so good so she only has to work once or twice a week and contrary to popular belief, not every date ends in the sheets. There are dignitaries and diplomats who are happily married and only need her services to be arm candy.

She's learned over the past year in the business to abide religiously to a strict set of rules: Four hours maximum on a date, only one spent in the bedroom. She doesn't allow herself to fall asleep next to a man, and she never, ever lets a client go down on her... It's too intimate, too revealing and an act she reserves for someone she truly cares about.

Gawd, it's been two years since that's occurred... A vision of Federal Agent Will Sorenson flashes through her mind, all blond hair and suave smile and she immediately shoves it aside. He's only a small part of the reason she's now on her current, dangerous path.

Her companion's hand on her knee brings her back to the present and she sighs in response, playing the doting Diamond, but secretly grateful this will be the last time she has to deal with the greedy stockbroker.

She doesn't doubt in the least Trent's embroiled deep in the murder of a prominent city official; she's gathered from their two other dates that he's a slimy worm in the extortion ring at the heart of the murder, but doesn't control the strings. She'll extract as much information as she can from him, hoping he'll slip up and reveal something incriminating, but if it doesn't pan out, she refuses to see him again.

Thank God Montgomery understands and agrees.

She's tired of having to stroke his massive ego and be his eager slave in the bedroom; the man pure and simple has a dark side he keeps under lock and key and sometimes, when it briefly surfaces, frightens the hell out of her.

She looks at Trent thoughtfully, trying to stay focused on what's he's saying but failing miserably as thoughts of a 6 foot 2, blue-eyed author keep streaming through her mind... Right now, as she listens to him go on and on about another multi-million dollar business deal, she wishes Castle would hurry up and show his ruggedly handsome face and interrupt her companion's dull monologue.

Richard Caste... Her heart's all over the place thinking about him, _the sneaky bastard._

Many men have tried different avenues in the past to get her attention... Of course, there's been the odd marriage proposal, the usual promises of buying a condo for her here in New York as well as any country of her choice, a client who dedicated thousands of dollars in her name to charity, and even someone who insisted on naming a new division of his business, Diamond Enterprises, but a man actually having the stones to take something personal of hers on the ruse of having it repaired?

That was a first, and _hmm, _she can't decide if it was a really shitty thing to do or just downright clever and incredibly sweet.

It's one thing for an inquisitive author to plan on using her life as background fodder for a new character in his book, but quite another when he delves into her personal life, sees an opportunity and takes advantage of it... Even if his heart was in the right place and it was strictly a gentlemanly gesture, he definitely had a personal agenda of his own, and she doesn't quite know how to feel about it.

She doesn't know how to feel about a man with a sensitive nature plus a killer vocabulary to match his killer personality, who also happens to have the ability to unbury feelings she hasn't felt in a very long time, things she does NOT want to feel.

She either wants to wring his neck until the smug light in his eyes vanishes completely, or jump his bones and maul him savagely, watching that smug light turn wickedly darker.

Ohh, the infinite possibilities.

She's a mess of jumbled nerves because beautiful-as-a-clear-summer-sky eyes keep haunting her, and a voice with the gift for making a woman wet, keeps whispering in her head, "I never pay for sex, Diamond. If you're ever interested in learning about real pleasure, give me a call."

_Real pleasure, huh? _but she quickly dispels the notion that 'real pleasure' just might be Richard Castle's middle name.

She fluctuates from one feeling to the next... One moment feeling, 'raw anger for the nerve of the man,' and the next, 'it just might be the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me,' sentiment.

Her heart tries to convince her that Castle didn't look at her as if she was only a fine piece of ass created for the sole purpose of a man's pleasure, but those piercing blues gazed at her as if her body's a temple and deserved to be worshipped, - hourly.

It was more than physical though, - he gave her the impression she was someone worthy of getting to know, worthy of his attention, worthy of _him. _

No matter her decision, there's one thing absolutely certain in her mind: Richard Edgar Castle is TrouBle with a capital T and trouble is something she just can't add to her fucked-up life right now.

**...**

She's facing the entrance to the restaurant but doesn't see Rick when he walks through the doorway as Trent commands her full attention. Her companion comments on how the Mets don't stand a chance of getting into the World Series this season and she laughs, because in addition to being a power stock broker he likes to consider himself a power sports analyst.

Just as she laughs, her sixth sense kicks into overtime and she knows she's being watched... The sensual flutter low in her belly tells her instinctively it's _him._

Castle.

Her eyes jerk over to the doorway and mold with his, delicious delight swimming in their depths as he absorbs her. There's no other word for it than 'absorb' as she can practically feel his body heat calling to her from 50 feet away as his eyes roam over her form.

And God, he looks yummy. Not a hair out of place wearing a maroon silk shirt clinging to his massive biceps and stretching across his wide chest; those Golce and Gabbana cloudy gray pants emphasizing all the right, _umm, b_ody parts.

It's a pity, - a damn shame she's going to have to knock this amazingly vibrant, walking-sex-magnet on his butt, but she can't let him get away with probing into her personal life and trying to seduce her by chivalrous, manipulative means.

And she most definitely can't let a man in her life who undoubtedly would have the power to hurt her.

Nope, nada, no, 'Mister-I'm-the-most-unselfish-lover-you'll-ever-meet-in-your-lifetime-Castle'. She can not under any circumstances let him into her life.

It's with a trepidatious heart she lets Trent know she'll be right back and stands and walks confidently towards the author, anger building with each and every step she takes at her body's response to him.

She hates that her flesh is tingling at his heated gaze; hates that her nipples are erect and desiring his large, author hands; hates his, 'If-you'd-only-let-me-I-could-show-you-unscene-pleasures-in-the-bedroom,' baby blues.

"Diamond, how lovely to see you again," he greets her warmly, all male dashing personality with underlying sexy motives.

She thinks his voice should be illegal to the entire female population and before he can smooth-talk his way out of this (or more accurately, smooth-talk his way into her) and make her rethink her decision, she's interrupting him.

"Don't say another word," she says icily.

She holds out her hand, palm face up in a cupping shape, speaking abruptly, "My necklace please."

He's surprised by her harshness but pulls the chain out of his front pocket, his thumb rubbing over the antique ring in a mesmerizing fashion, and with pleading eyes and an incredibly apologetic voice asks, "May I just have five minutes? Can we please sit down so I can explain something to you?"

The words are flying out of her mouth before she even thinks about them, - jagged, cutting, hurtful.

"Let you explain why you're such a jack-ass? Let you explain how you get your jollies stealing jewelry from unsuspecting women? Let you explain why you felt justified taking something priceless from me, - that it was the only way you could think of to see me again?" Her eyes rake over his face, distaste painting her features. "No thank you. I've heard it all before. Our business is done, Mister Castle."

_Oh shit, _those puppy dog eyes fill with pain and disappointment, weakening her resolve, but it's his response that literally blows her away, has her gasping for breath, wondering how in the span of just a few minutes spent in his company, this observant author has crawled his way under her skin and left his indelible mark?

His eyes never leave hers as his voice drops low, filled with emotion. "I wanted to explain why I was drawn to the necklace in the first place… Why the inscription on the ring touched something deep within me. Why, - when I noticed the clasp was loose, I couldn't stop myself from picking it up and taking it to a jeweler whom I trust, who I knew would take special care of it, … but it's obvious my impulsiveness was a mistake. I apologize for being intrusive, for overstepping my bounds. I never meant to hurt you, Diamond. Hopefully, you'll be able to forgive me one day."

She doesn't expect it as he moves towards her and the next moment he's standing behind her, hands slightly shaky as he places the chain around her neck.

He smells divine, like a man who's just stepped from beneath a Hawaiin waterfall, - clean fresh, earthy. His body heat sears into her back and his fingers skim her collarbone, - tentative and yet needy at the same time, - calloused pads of flesh which send liquid warmth to her loins.

"Don't worry, you'll never have to see me again," floats over her ear in a whisper-pained caress while he clasps the necklace completely.

She turns around, - all liquid hazel, questioning orbs, trying to grasp what's happening between them.

His eyes are focused on the necklace lying between her breasts and "Beautiful," streams out of his mouth like he's never used the word before.

"You should never take if off. It's right where it belongs, - close to your heart."

He turns away from her quickly and she's stunned, slack-jawed, trying to comprehend how he makes her feel like he can scale this twnety foot wall of hers armed only with rapier wit and spellbinding passion.

"Cas – tle," she calls but he just keeps walking away from her, stiff set shoulders and straight back testifying how she's wounded him.

"Rick," she tries a second time, knowing she has to stop him, somehow make this right between them, but Trent's hand clamps down over her bicep possessively, stopping her.

"Diamond, I'm the one who's paying for your time. Get back to our table, - **now**."

She can't deal with this douche bag going all caveman on her, so she huffs, "Just a moment, Trent. I need a few minutes."

"No, I'm not waiting any longer," and his fingers curl menacingly into her tender flesh.

As his fingers tighten, she can feel the impending bruise spreading across her arm and a squeak of fright leaves her lips.

She doesn't see Rick turn back around as her full attention is on the man at her side. She can't keep the tremor of fear out of her voice as she commands, "Let go of me."

"For the amount of money I'm paying you, I expect your sinful body next to me every single second." Trent pulls her arm roughly, dragging her towards him.

She looks to her left, hoping to see Esposito riding to her rescue but instead finds herself looking at a deadly determined, six foot tower of rage...

Rick positions himself in front of her companion, his blue eyes blazing, hissing through clenched teeth, "I suggest you do as the lady requests and release her, - i_mmediately_."

Trent laughs, - a sickening sound of someone who feels superior, someone who's used to getting his way. "You don't know her then as she's certainly **not** a lady… Move out of my way."

"How unfortunate your mother never taught you some manners." Rick takes a step closer to the man, going toe-to-toe with him, menacing intent radiating off his large frame. "And now you owe the _lady_ an apology… Release her now and ask her forgiveness or you won't like the consequences."

"Are you actually threatening me?"

"Take it anyway you like, Tre - nnt," Rick sneers, slurring his name like it's a filthy swear word. "But either way, you're letting go of her right now."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

She can't keep quiet any longer as this author, who certainly deserves the Casanova award of the decade, happens to also be a true Gentleman in every sense of the word and her one weakness where men are concerned is a dapper man with a 'hero complex'.

And Richard Castle happens to fit the bill beautifully.

Disdain flows from off her as she addresses Trent, yanking her arm forcefully from his grasp.

"He happens to be the gentleman I'm leaving with… Our date is over. Go find Mister Ryan and tell him I said you could have a full refund."

Her eyes soften as she turns to Castle, voice hinting at a mysterious night to come. "Rick, will you get me out of here?"

She hopes he can tell how grateful she is to him for rescuing her from this jackass, how much it would mean to spend the rest of the night in his company.

Her heart stutters and then flutters out of control at his response.

"Yes, I'd be honored to."

With a relieved sigh, she links her arm through his and then the unthinkable happens...

Trent growls, "You don't get to decide when our date ends," and his slimy hand curls itself around her neck, squeezing softly. "I do."

She takes an anguished breath before Rick's left elbow slams backward into Trent's ribs, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Castle's facing him in a millisecond, fist curled tightly into a ball and he strikes the older man with a right hook, hitting him directly in the nose.

She smiles triumphantly as the crunching sound of bone fills the air and blood starts oozing from Trent's nostrils as he stumbles backward.

Her ever faithful bodyguard grabs Trent before he falls to the ground and wraps up both his wrists, twisting one arm painfully behind his back.

"Sorry I didn't get to the party in time," Espo says jovially, grinning haughtily when Trent winces as he yanks harder on his arm. "Are you okay, Diamond?"

"Yes, a little shaken, but I'm fine thanks to Writer-Boy here." She glances at him beneath lowered lashes as Wo_w_, she certainly didn't expect him to go all 'Knight in shining armor' for her, willing to defend her at any cost.

Esposito looks dumbstruck as he gives Castle the once over. "Never thought I'd be saying this to you, but you have nice arm, bro… For a _writer._"

Rick chuckles as if he and Espo are long time drinking buddies. "Thanks for the compliment."

"Seriously though, thank you for taking care of my girl."

"Anytime. It was my pleasure."

His eyes openly caress her face, tracing the feminine curve of her cheek, falling along her neck, checking for any signs she's really hurt.

_Fuck, h_is baby blues fill with unchecked desire and his bedroom voice promises many salacious nights to come... "I'm hoping she'll let me take care of her again in the very near future."

Trent breaks the spell swirling between them when he sarcastically sneers, "I'm happy to give you a few pointers on taming this wildcat."

"Shut up," Esposito threatens, "or I'll do it for you… Diamond, you want to file charges against this asshole?"

"No," she tears her eyes reluctantly away from Rick's. "Make sure he's escorted out of here and put directly in a cab. I'll have Ryan issue him a full refund on condition he never tries to contact me again."

"Did you hear that, sleazebag? If you ever try to reach Diamond again, I'll personally make sure a restraining order is filed against you and your ass is thrown in jail. Got it?"

Trent grumbles something affirmative as Esposito half hauls, half drags him towards the door. His face contorts in humiliation, laced with jealousy as he looks at her one last time and she knows, before the words fly out of his mouth, that they're going to sting.

"She's spoiled goods. Enjoy my leftovers if you can."

She tenses next to Castle, her body rigid, as yes, the truth may set you free, but sometimes, emotional pain hurts worse than actual physical pain.

Unfortunately, this was one of those times.

With eyes downcast, trying to hide the tears pricking them, she says softly, "Please take me away from here."

"I'll take you where ever you want to go," and as his hand clasps hers, something happens that hasn't happened in over two long years... A tinder sparks to life low in her belly, making her dream of an author writing sensual messages on her skin, indescribable burning friction, salacious satisfaction at his hands - a feeling she didn't realize how much she missed until her favorite writer bulldozed his way into her life.


	7. Chapter 7

He's determined not to bed her until he knows her real name.

He doesn't want her to see him as just another client, absolutely refuses to be another john, having certain expectations of her, demanding explicit things.

He wants to be the one man she chooses to sleep with, the one man who makes a lasting impression on her life.

She's awfully quiet staring outside the limo's back window, taking in the beauty of the city streets.

They left the restaurant so quickly that they were unable to stop at her suite to pick up a shawl, and the goose bumps along her flesh reflect she's cold.

"You must be freezing. Would you like my jacket?"

He sincerely hopes she'll say, "Yes," as he needs to cover those alluring nipples out on full display, making him half crazed with need.

_Hell,_ it's embarrassing how his eyes keep dropping to her chest.

"Yes, I am a bit cold."

He takes his jacket and slips it behind her shoulders, his fingers slyly roving along her shoulders.

"You should keep it," he says with a dapper smile. "It looks way better on you than it does on me." A vision of her wearing only his Dolce & Gabbana jacket flits to mind, all legs and incandescent smile.

His comment causes her to smile, chasing away the sadness over Trent's earlier snide remarks.

"Thank you, but I'm positive the female population of New York just might hate me a bit if I kept your jacket."

"Mmm, be careful, Diamond, as that sounds quite a lot like a compliment. You wouldn't want it going to my head now, would you?"

"Oh, you'll know Mis - ter Castle, when I pay you an actual compliment."

The delicious undertones in her voice clearly hint she'll be complimenting him when he's stark naked, succumbing to her fevered touch.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"And yes," she purrs, all sultry bedroom eyes, "It will definitely go to your head."

_Fuckety fuck_, her innuendo seeps through his skin and makes him hard as stone, the other 'head' on his lower half responding to her words.

As she pulls the jacket tight around her body, shivering slightly, he flips an intercom switch and asks the driver to please turn the heat on low.

"Anywhere special you want to go?"

"No. Just somewhere I can get a strong drink."

He chuckles low and deep, sending vibrations along the back of the seat. "You read my mind."

**...**

Surprisingly, the bar isn't busy for a Friday night. The hostess is able to find them a secluded table in the back with a view of the street below.

She's still wrapped up in his Dolce and Gabbana jacket and looks like the girl-next-door, - the beautiful, untouchable girl with bits of fly away hair falling out of her elaborate twist, with soulful eyes you can lose yourself in.

After she orders a White Russian, heavy on the coffee liqueur, his eyebrow raises comically and he delightfully smirks at her, "I like a woman whose coffee addiction might possibly rival mine."

She quips, "What? You've never dated a woman before with a love of hard liquor?"

"I'm flattered, Diamond," and his eyes light up mischievously. "Here I thought we were just two consenting adults going out for a drink, and yet, you're thinking this is a date."

She rolls those hazel eyes and drawls, "Wrong choice of words, this is definitely **not** a date. Think of this along the lines of a personal business meeting."

The author in him is thrilled at her words, the man in him? ... _Hmm, not so much._

"Let me make it perfectly clear that I don't want to hire you. I only want to get to know you better, the woman behind the persona, the _real _you."

Her smile could light a thousand wickless candles as she teases, "How refreshing to meet a man who doesn't want to sleep with me."

"Un – for – tun - ately," and he spouts a, I-am-a-virile-heterosexual-male-who-appreciates-an-extraordinarily-gorgeous-woman, grin. "I fall into that baser category with half the men here in New York, but I assure you, my motives are more complex."

"Thank God you didn't say your motives were pure or I'd have to call you out on your blatant lie."

"'Pure' is certainly one of the last things on my mind," he purrs devilishly.

"You've piqued my curiosity now." She crosses her left leg over her right, smoothing down the silk dress as it falls freely to her feet. "How would you describe your intentions?"

He wants to get down on his knees beneath the table, run his hands underneath the enticing silk fabric and worship those glorious gams slowly, - show her just how_ unpure _he can be.

"I'm someone who's enthralled by you," he starts off cautiously. "Someone who's willing to go to great lengths to get to know you better, but I'm not just interested in your career choice, but what lays buried beneath the surface... I'd love to get a peek beneath all the glamour and the hype, unwrap the sex-symbol you portray."

"Why doesn't your answer surprise me? It's certainly one I would expect from a _famous_ writer."

"It's not just the author in me who's curious about you, Diamond, but the man who's seeking a woman with a generous heart, a kind soul, and sharp intellect.

His eyes reflect the ability to wrap her up in intense, sensual pleasure as he gazes at her openly. "It's just an added bonus if those traits happen to match her outward appearance."

"There's more to you than I originally thought," she says lazily, but by the surprised gleam in her eye, he wonders if she even meant to say the words out loud.

"If you'll give me the chance, I just might shock you with my hidden depths."

She doesn't respond, just stares at him intently, gold-flecks in her irises more pronounced as she wonders if he's as smooth as silk in the bedroom as well.

The bubbly young waitress approaches their table eyeing Rick appreciatively. He doesn't notice the way she bats her eyelashes, the way she stands to accentuate her curvaceous figure, or even the flirtiness in her tone as she places their drinks on the table.

He doesn't notice as his attention is fully on the woman in front of him… The city street lamps shine through the window and bring an ethereal glow to Diamond's face; he can't seem to look away from her dainty mouth with just a hint of lipgloss, accentuating its lushness. His fingers itch to dance along her strong jawline and settle on the nape of her neck, pulling her closer until…

"Will that be all for you two this evening?" Mariah asks, disappointment filling her tone with Rick's lack of response to her.

"For right now. Thank you."

"One drink is enough for me," Diamond replies, smiling at the waitress' attempt to grab Rick's attention.

Once Mariah has walked out of site, she takes a sip of the White Russian and asks, "Does that happen often?"

"What?" he queries.

"A pretty young woman fawning all over you."

"Huh?" he asks, feigning innocence while smiling broadly over the rim of his vodka glass.

"Oh, come on Castle," she laughs, looking at him like he just might be the densest man on the planet. "She was obviously flirting with you and hoped something would come of it."

"Who, Mariah? ... God, she's barely older than Alexis and I prefer a woman," his eyes narrow darkly, hunger residing in their depths, "who knows who she is… One who isn't afraid to let a man see her inner beauty as well as her _inner desires_. One who cherishes the pleasure a man and woman can give each other."

"Well, that certainly is a tall order. She must be a difficult woman to find."

"I'm hoping my search is over."

She's uncomfortable with his confession, her fingers playing with the straw in her drink, stirring it nervously.

He takes a hefty swig of the vodka, the burn of the alcohol making him wish he could share a different kind of burn with her.

"Tell me your real name," and it barrels out of his mouth, sounding more like a military command than a request.

"I don't ever tell anyone my name," she says softly, almost apologetically. "Please understand… In this business, anonymity is my only choice."

"I understand more than you realize, but what about the woman beneath the erotic façade? Doesn't she occasionally like to be noticed, listened to, empathised with? Doesn't she yearn to come out and play?"

"I, unfortunately, don't have that type of luxury."

A dull knife cuts at his heart as there's undoubtedly a deep tragedy at the center of her story, a story he wonders if he'll ever be privy to.

"Give me the opportunity. I've been told I'm a very good listener," he says sincerely, sitting back comfortably in his chair, hoping she'll open up to him.

"I'd bet you've been told you're _good_ at a lot of things."

His chuckle is deep, intimate. "It seems you've gathered more about me than I you… Try me, Diamond. I'd love to be your sounding board."

_Among other naughty, dirty things._

She looks at him critically, sizing him up, hazel eyes filling with wariness, and he knows before she speaks that he won't be able to pull any more information from her tonight.

"Not this evening, I'd rather focus more on you... So I take it you're still in the research phase for your new book?"

"Correct. I certainly need to -," and he pauses, blue eyes lighting wickedly, "research you more thoroughly... Among other things."

"It's the 'other things' I'm worried about."

_S_he needs to stop curling her bottom lip with her teeth, (ImMeDiatELy) all coy and demure like, or he's not going to be able to restrain himself from reaching across the table and taking that sweet lip into his own mouth and ...

"No need to worry. My mother raised me to be a gentleman in every sense of the word. Nothing will happen between us which isn't," his eyes caress her lips, "consensual."

He can practically read her thoughts of:_ That's what I'm afraid of... _

"I certainly witnessed firsthand your chivalrous nature, Mister Castle. Which by-the-way reminds me, I haven't properly thanked you."

"Thank moi?" and his hand covers his chest as if in shock. "What has little ol' me done to deserve your thanks?"

She laughs then, soft and airy and it pulls an immediate smile from him. "_Old_ is certainly the last term I'd use to describe you."

"Oh really?" he teases, "and here I thought the last word in the dictionary to describe me was _little_."

"Mmm," and her eyes descend daringly down his chest, stopping just below the waistband on his pants. "I might get the nerve one day to let you prove it to me."

_Holy hell_, the way she's looking at him, peeling off every layer of his clothing with eager hands and hopefully a more eager mouth, has his groin aching to take her, - feel every sweet, wet feminine curve of her womanhood.

_Take it slow, Rick, this one's worth the wait, _but trying to convince mini Castle of that was going to be extremely difficult.

His cell phone rings, chiming out the melody for 'Butterfly Kisses'.

"Excuse me just a minute. I need to take this call. It's my daughter," and he swipes across the screen to accept the call.

"Alexis, pumpkin, how's every - " His brows furrow together anxiously as he listens to her.

"I want you to notify Henry. Tell him not to let anyone he doesn't know personally up to our floor. I'll be home in thirty minutes... Make sure all the blinds are closed and double check the front door to make sure it's locked."

He listens to her for a few more seconds and the frown lines soften a bit from what she says. He chuckles softly, "That's my girl. I love you," and then he's hanging up, turning to Diamond with apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry. I have to cut our evening short," and then he's pulling out his wallet, searching for twenty dollar bills and tossing a couple on the table to pay for their tab.

"It's no problem at all," she says, gathering his jacket closer around her. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He quickly taps out a text to his limo driver telling him to meet them out front before turning anxious, worried eyes her way. "No. She's a little frightened is all. She received a creepy text from a questionable, obsessive boy."

"Castle," she breathes, and her hand reaches for his, clasping it tightly. "Is he stalking her? Are you worried he might be dangerous?"

"Something along those lines."

Her hand feels deliciously warm as he interlocks their fingers, drawing her from the table and directing them through a throng of people whom have suddenly shown up during the intermission of a Broadway play.

The night air is crisp against his cheeks as he leads her out onto the busy sidewalk.

"I have friends at the Twelfth Precinct who can look into this boy for you…Do a background check, set up surveillance, offer protection if you feel like she needs it."

It's just so sweet of her and downright thoughtful and God, he didn't think it was possible, but the gesture makes her even more desirable in his eyes.

"I appreciate the offer, but we'll be alright."

Brandon arrives with the limo just as they reach the curb of the street and a sigh of remorse leaves his lips at the thought of not being able to escort her back home, not having the chance to peel away another layer of her shell.

He opens the back door of the limo and tells his driver to take the lady where ever she wants to go, but before he can usher her through, she's turned to him with molten eyes, hands curling at his waist.

Hot hands with svelte fingers that he wishes would move slightly rearward, drag along the cusp of his ass.

"You're not coming with me?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't have the time to stop anywhere first. My daughter needs me."

"It's wonderful knowing you put her first in your life," and then she's leaning into him, hot breath ghosting over his cheek, purring, "I never got to thank you for rescuing me earlier," and her lips land on his fresh stubble, pressing erotically into the flesh, lingering longer than is socially acceptable.

"Thank you, Richard Edgar Castle."

"You're welcome." He helps her gracefully into the backseat, eyes falling and lingering on her Brooklyn Decker ass.

A goofy grin smatters across his handsome face as he purrs, "Promise me something…" He's reaching for her seatbelt, drawing it snugly across her body, unable to resist the temptation to swipe his fingers across her right hip.

"No more douche bags."

Her eyes twinkle as she replies, "Don't know if I can promise that, but I will promise to keep you in mind the next time I need help taking out the trash."

"Please do. I've been told I'm _gifted _when it comes to helping women," and he winks outrageously before closing the door soundly, tapping the hood of the limo to let Brandon know it's safe to pull away.

His fingers are tingling and her cherry scent is still wafting in the air around him as he hails a cab, and now he's in an unbearable state of arousal which he won't be able to take care of for several hours.

He shouldn't have touched her.


	8. Chapter 8

The night keeps replaying over and over again in her mind.

It's simply eating her up inside knowing they never discussed seeing one another again... She'd thanked Castle for rescuing her from Trent, slid her fingers along his waistband and fought against the urge to cop a feel of his tight butt before placing her lips on his stubbled cheek.

The back of her hand lifts to her lips in remembrance.

_Fuck,_ she can still feel the fresh, baby stubble beneath her mouth and her loins automatically contract in anticipation, picturing his dark sexy stubble between her legs.

The woman in her who longs for a normal, stable relationship tries to convince her to call the hunky author, but the self-assured Goddess stamps the idea out, reminding her she's never needed a man in her life before and never will.

A coil of fear wraps itself around her and feels suffocating... Fear that Richard Edgar Castle just might be the _one _man to make her rethink the notion.

She can't stop thinking about the way he stood up to Trent, defending her as a_ lady_, and actually punching the jerk-off in the face. He'd been extremely attentive to her all night long, as if she was the only woman in the room, not even noticing when the beautiful, young waitress had openly flirted with him.

He'd been forthright, teasing, letting her know his intentions weren't quite pure, insinuating she just might have all the traits he was looking for in a woman.

He'd done what she thought was impossible, - managed to convince her he was more than just interested in her for sensual pleasure.

Damn the man for interfering and interviewing her for research for his new book, for tossing her off her sturdy life raft into murky waters, waves sloshing over her where she's barely able to keep her head above water.

She refuses to entertain the possibility he's her 'life preserver,' - floating along her side.

She remembers his commanding presence, his deep voice purring, "I prefer a woman who knows who she is… One who isn't afraid to let a man see her inner beauty as well as her inner desires. One who cherishes the pleasure a man and woman can give each other."

_I just bet he does_, she thinks raunchily, but her inner voice relays he's different from all the other men she's dated before and deserves a chance.

In just a very short time spent in his presence, she's deemed he's a **very **good man and it shows by his words, but more importantly, by his actions.

He was unselfish throughout the entire evening, chivalrous to a fault, offering her his jacket when he noticed she was cold, not expecting anything in return. He'd flirted, ogled, made his intentions clear but in an understated, honorable way, making her believe he was hoping for more than just one torrid night in the sack, desiring to get to know the _real_ her.

He'd shown what a dedicated father he is, proving his daughter came first and foremost in his life and _fuck_, that fact alone certainly did it for her.

He'd been accommodating and gracious, telling his driver to take her whereever she wanted to go, helping her into the back seat of the limo and with a grin to match George Washington on Mount Rushmore, he'd pulled the seatbelt taut around her, fingers slicing hotly over her pelvis before clicking the belt into place.

He'd brushed off her invitation to join her for the sake of his daughter, left her in the back seat of the limo alone, - breathing erratically, surrounded by his intoxicating, rugged scent, wishing his muscular body was there keeping her warm instead of his jacket.

_Mmm, his jacket._ It still hangs on her headboard where she drapes herself in it at night, his smell filling her with dirty thoughts of naked flesh, heated cries, and up-all-night-melt-your-bones-fucking-sessions.

It's been five days since she's seen him... Five long nights where she wakes unrested, feverish, twisted in sheets, a dampness between her thighs.

She dreams of thick sandy hair, midnight-blue obsessive eyes which rarely blink as he absorbs every inch of her, large hands which strum and flick and torture her provocatively.

She dreams of six feet of muscle pinning her down, enfolding her with his bulk and a voice whispering huskily, "Kate."

He's dangerous to her psyche.

Dangerous to her well being.

Dangerous to her heart.

She's got to get him outta her head so life can go back to normal.

_Normal? … Trying to stop yourself from slipping down the rabbit hole while surrounded by a 20 foot wall? Continuing to work for Detective Montgomery hoping one day a john will reveal information about your Mother's murder? Hiding behind your persona because you're too scared to dream, - or even hope for, - what your parents shared?… A lot of good that's done you for the past year and a half._

She runs her fingers through her layered, mid-length hair and sighs in exasperation.

_Maybe today's the day the Captain will reveal promising evidence. _

She dresses quickly in navy skinny jeans and a white button down, choosing conservative boots. She applies bronzer, a touch of mascara and some gloss, brushing her hair into a high ponytail.

She loves these days off where she can leave Diamond's glamorous lifestyle behind and just be Kate Beckett, albeit a damaged one.

As she enters the 12th precinct, Officer Anne Hastings greets her openly and she returns the greeting with a heartfelt smile, wondering if she had passed the Academy, if she and the young woman would be friends.

She hops on the elevator and heads up to the 3rd floor for Captain Montgomery's office. As she approaches his door, she hears the Captain and Esposito arguing with each other, raised voices traveling through the closed door.

"You underestimated Trent Eason, Sir. The man's bordering on psychotic and could have easily hurt her."

"She's okay isn't she? She's a big girl and knows the risks, gladly accepts them."

"Yes, but she isn't one of us no matter how much you wish otherwise. She's treading down a rocky road, willing to throw herself to the wolves in hopes of finding a solid lead in her mother's case."

"Don't you think I know that? I wish I didn't have to put her in harm's way, but you've witnessed firsthand the good she's done… She's been invaluable here, helping to put serious scumbags behind bars who otherwise would be roaming these city streets free and clear. I need her on my team."

"But at what cost ... Her life? Because I won't be able to - "

Kate taps soundly on the door, interrupting them, uncomfortable with the direction their conversation's heading.

"Captain?" she queries, opening the door and coming into contact with Esposito's dark brown, reserved eyes.

"Well, speak of the devil." Javi grins atrociously, feigning she hasn't just been the topic of conversation. "How are you, Beckett?"

"Doing good. Thanks again for escorting Trent out of Asiate the other night."

"You ought to thank me for arresting him for assault. His rich, pompous mouth got him into trouble. He openly threatened me so I hauled him down to booking." (He wouldn't mention Trent also threatened to come after her and show her how a 'real man' handles a woman) It was the highlight of my night throwing him in the cage."

With a delightful smile she replies, "I'm sure he got exactly what he deserved."

"Yes, and a little bit more." Javi's raised eyebrow spoke of outrageous, not-quite-legal shenanigans.

"You'll have to tell me all about it."

Montgomery clears his throat, effectively interrupting them. "Esposito, you need to get back to Officer McNaughty's case."

"Officer McNaughty?" she asks humorously.

Espo smirks around his Hispanic drawl, "Just a popular stripper who enjoyed dressing up as a cop." He opens the office door before turning back to Kate, "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" she queries, surprise lingering in the air.

"Didn't Ryan speak with you? ... A new client paid for three hours of your time from 7 - 10 pm."

"No, he hasn't talked to me about it. I'll call him later."

Javi chuckles, "Tell him I'm sick and tired of seeing him drool over Jenny O'Malley. He needs to get the balls to ask her to marry him."

A vice grip clenches around her heart, squeezing mercilessly as she wonders if a man will ever look at her the way Kevin Ryan does Jenny O'Malley.

"I'll relay the message."

Espo closes the door shut behind him and she turns to Montgomery expectantly, "Please tell me you have good news."

**...**

There's no other word for it than frustration. Her mother's case is still, after 12 long years, going nowhere. Montgomery hadn't been able to find any inconsistencies with the law cases Johanna was working on before her death.

Quote, unquote, "Nothing jumped out on paper." He'd hired a new Medical Examiner to take a look at the photos of the crime scene as well as her body, but there was nothing conclusive, the stab wounds looked random, violent, meant for blood loss, meant to kill.

'Random gang violence' would remain the cause of Johanna Beckett's death.

_Only for now_, she vows to herself.

She picks up her burner cell phone and inputs Ryan's number. After a couple of rings, his Irish voice comes on the line, "Hello."

"Rumors are I have a job tomorrow night. Why am I the last one to know?" She spouts in mock-anger.

"I was just going to call you as the request came in last night."

"Were you now? Why do I get the feeling you and Espo enjoy leaving me dangling until the last possible minute?"

"Because you do your best work with little to no notice," he laughs.

"Touche… Tell me about this new guy."

"He's a trust-fund kid, raised by his mother, now in his thirties. He's an entrepreneur, dabbling in the publishing industry. He's looking to relocate from the Hamptons to the city and would like you to be his tour guide."

"Seems a little odd. I usually only get that type of request from foreigners. I'm sure he knows about the city's hot spots, so is he more interested in the rural areas?"

"It's the impression I got, but his secretary was pretty vague about it when she booked you for him."

"He signed the contract?"

"Yes. I went over all your rules with her and she praised the man's virtues, promising her Boss understands and would abide by them without fail."

"Background check?"

"Other than being arrested in his youth for vandalism of the New York City Public Library, he's clean."

"And you're sure he understands Esposito will be shadowing us the entire time?"

"Yes, Diamond. He's okay with your bodyguard tagging along as long as he sits in the front seat of the towncar, leaving you two in relative privacy."

"Okay then, I'll agree to it. Did he specify what he'd like me to wear?"

"Anything you're comfortable with."

"Is there a particular hotel he requested to go to afterwards?"

"No, he didn't pay for the full package, only for your time."

She expels a sigh of relief and mumbles, "Thank God for little favors."

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you just said."

"Never mind, it wasn't important… When and where are we supposed to meet?"

"7 pm. A diner on 4th and Broadway called, Remy's."

"I know the place; they make a mean burger and to-die-for strawberry shakes... How will I recognize him?"

"He'll be the guy with the single yellow rose."

"What's his name, Ryan?"

"Alexander Rogers."

A what-the-hell-is-that, delicious, yet unnerving tremor starts at the soles of her feet and curls lazily up her entire body, at the same moment erotic baby blues blaze through her mind.


	9. Chapter 9

This could be the quickest date in human history. It could backfire in so many different ways, on so many levels. It just might end up being the biggest crash and burn of the 21st century.

Or, if it goes in the other direction, possibly end up being the hottest bonfire in New York's history.

Castle adjusts his sky blue polo shirt one more time, eyes glancing anxiously towards Remy's front door.

He'd been so caught up in worry the other night over Alexis, as well as smitten by the sex kitten before him, that he didn't plan ahead when he'd escorted Diamond to the back of the limo, teasingly asking her to promise him, "No more douchebags."

Her flirty, innuendo-filled response, plus the feel of her slender hip had caused the blood to zip south and he'd lost his Casanova mo-jo, forgetting to ask when he could see her again.

Paula had grudgingly agreed to his plan, laughing her head off at the idea of thee Richard Castle, Playboy extraordinaire, having to pay for a woman's company. She pretended to be his secretary for the, "Good of the next book," and made him swear he wouldn't call her to bail his ass outta jail if things spiraled out of control.

Now, he's sitting in a greasy burger's booth, twirling a yellow bud nervously, waiting for a woman who could very well take one look at him and all hell fire and damnation break loose at his deception.

His groin twitches at the thought because _damn,_ she's gorgeous with fiery eyes and a mouth to match, her clever tongue putting him in his rightful place.

Best case scenario, if she turns him down, will be for her to take one look at him and do a one-eighty, spinning away from him on the soles of those, I know-you-want-me-to-leave-these-on-while-fucking, heels and just walk away from him all stiff shoulders and sashaying ass.

_Hmm, _either way has definite positive possibilities.

Of course he's hoping, once she realizes he's actually Alexander Rogers, she'll see his deception as a compliment, take into consideration the preparation it took to set up a date with her, - interpret it as a, No-man-has-ever-gone-to-such-great-lengths-to-see-me-again, gesture.

With this woman though, who can make or break a man in under a minute, whose beauty surpasses Helen of Troy and whose sex appeal simmers hotter than Marilyn Monroe, he's expecting to walk away with a bruised and battered ego.

Expecting to lose his man card by her cutting, sensual mouth and skyscraper legs which could easily kick his ass to the curb.

He doesn't think he'd mind as much though if she used her hands to shove him out the restaurant door as his last memory of her would be those strong feminine fingers roughly leaving her mark on him.

He smiles at Judy, a waitress in her fifties who's a life-long fan of Martha's and likes to call him, "Ricky," giving him extra whipped topping on his pies and in his shakes.

She takes a big whiff of the dozen yellow roses he brought her, (now minus one) and ogles him like she wishes she could turn back the clock.

The door jangles, signifying someone entering the restaurant and he doesn't even have to see Diamond to know she's there, ... just hears her sexy stilettos spiking the ceramic tile and his heart stops, stutters and then races like a stallion at the Kentucky Derby.

_Sweet Jesus,_ she's only wearing... _Oh my God_ and every eye in the diner's glued to her.

She's wrapped in a Burberry maroon trench coat zipped almost all the way to the top, protruding collarbones exposed, cinched tight at the waist with a wide belt, showcasing her hourglass figure and displaying just enough leg to make a Pavlovian dog drool without hearing a bell.

She's not wearing any nylons and combined with the 4 inch pumps she gives off the impression that she's not, _umm,_ (gulp) wearing anything underneath, - just ripe and ready and willing and waiting for the right man to slowly unknot that belt and peel the trench coat off her silky flesh and ...

Her hazel eyes collide with his, and he sees the exact moment she recognizes him as raw irritation fills their lovely depths.

She tosses her hair prissily over her shoulder and rolls those expressive eyes, saying, "Un - Be - Liev - A- Ble," enunciating each syllable.

He places the stem of the rose in his mouth and smirks outrageously, all twinkling blue eyes, and crosses his fingers he's portraying nothing but 'male innocence'.

He assesses her face, straight hair that falls past her shoulders, light eye shadow with just a thin layer of mascara, a clear gloss on her lips, which makes her appear more youthful and natural, so **un-**Diamond like. He bites the rose harder at the implication because to him it means only one thing... She left Diamond behind and is showing him a bit of _her_.

_Her_ in a smoking trench coat created to entice a man's fantasies.

Her.

Trench coat.

Stripper pole.

He silently prays, _God, don't let her notice already how excited mini-Castle is to see her._

He removes the rose and stands up in the aisle, holding it out to her as a token, at the same moment she walks towards him, a frustrated scowl marring those beautiful features.

"I can't wait to hear what **tall** tale your writer's mind comes up with," she says, sarcasm dripping off each word. "If this is an elaborate ploy to learn more about me for your book, well you can just go to - "

"No ploy," he interrupts her, crossing his heart in an endearing, little boy manner. "I'm standing here in front of you as Richard Alexander Rogers the man, not Richard Castle, the author."

"You're standing before me alright as a conniving, manipulative man."

"Oh, give him a chance, honey," Judy speaks up unexpectedly, with an air of, If-this-man-were-mine-I'd-keep-him-tied-up-and-locked-away-to-have-my-dirty-way-with-him-twenty-four-seven. "He's been waiting for you for twenty minutes, primping his hair and fiddling with that rose... Put the poor man out of his misery and forgive him for his stupidity."

"Stupid is as stupid does," she drawls and it brings to mind the very STuPid idea to grab her and haul her to him, smothering that sassy, delectable mouth of hers and shutting her up with his tongue.

"Thank you Judy," Castle chuckles, "but I don't need you to play matchmaker."

Diamond looks as if she'd thoroughly enjoy grabbing his ear and twisting it painfully to teach him a lesson. She huffs out, "You certainly have an effect on women of all ages."

His eyes find hers, - dark, leering, sensual. "There's only one woman who I'm hoping to have an affect on tonight, Diamond."

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered by your attentions, Castle, or extremely troubled," and then she's spinning around, walking confidently away from him.

He's following her like a lost puppy but he's buoyed by the fact she hasn't openly called him every name in the book, hasn't outright told him to screw himself and go jump in the Hudson.

Before she can reach for the door handle, he's reaching around her saying, "Here, let me get that for you," and she steps to the side, all doll eyes, allowing him to open up the door for her.

"You know how difficult it is to reach you," Rick continues, "and Mister Ryan made it perfectly clear he wouldn't set up another appointment with you. This seemed to be the best option to see you again."

"I don't understand why a notorious Playboy, New York's Eligible Bachelor Number Nine, " she sneers at the moniker, obviously finding the title distasteful, "who could have any woman in the city, would be interested in a lowly, successful Escort?"

Her words stir something deep inside him, enrage the 'Caveman' in him, and the next instant he's doing something out of character, something **very** stupid... He's pushed her back against the brick wall, his muscled frame pinning her in place, blue eyes flaming with unresolved sexual tension.

She's startled, wide eyed, breathing stymied, lips parted in a soft 'O'; her tantalizing chest heaving up and down, up and down.

"Because you're worthy of getting to know." Both his palms land on the brick, right next to the side of her face, and he leans in, warm breath puffing out over her lips. "I want to know about your past, the woman who's hidden beneath the Diamond persona. I want to know what makes you tick, what makes you dream, what makes you smile and laugh, what makes you," his eyes freefall to her lips, "scream."

She delicately swallows and he watches the feminine glide of her throat before his eyes are drawn back up to her plump mouth. Her sparkling white teeth pull teasingly on her lower lip.

_Jesus, she's got to stop doing that right now or I won't be held accountable for my actions._

"Castle, I don't want to be just another conquest, - another notch on your bedpost."

"You wouldn't be... I'm hoping to be yours."

She's so damn close and all he'd have to do is twist his body an inch and take one half-step closer and she'd be able to feel how affected he is by her, feel this raging-hard on that only she can tame.

He tempers his instinct, willing her to make the next move.

She's assessing him with eyes the color of freshly mown grass in the summertime, deep, rich, pure... Eyes he'd never tire of waking up to every single morning.

"Rick, - "

"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me," says a hispanic voice directly behind him. "So Alexander Rogers is actually Richard Castle, metro-sexual author. You've got some balls, man."

_If looks could kill._

"Diamond, you want me to take care of this Bozo?"

"No, I can handle him," she purrs, eyes never straying from Rick's. "Espo, I'm giving you the rest of the night off."

Castle's lips lift at her words, broaden to a devilish smirk and then erupt in a full blown, 'Hang-on-as- I'm-going-to-give-you-the-ride-of-your-life-proving-just-how-irresistible-I-am', grin.

He leans into her ear, whispering huskily, "I'm looking forward to every single second of you 'handling' me."

She shakes her head from side to side, withholding a smile of her own as this rugged man in front of her certainly doesn't need more encouragement.

"Get off me, you brute," she teases and pushes him away.

Rick dramatically stumbles backwards and with a flirty wink catches himself. He stands up straight, actually puffing out his chest, and flashes Esposito a gloating smile that could rival even, "The Fonz."

"Are you sure you want to go out with this guy, Diamond? He looks like he could use a woman turning him down now and then."

She chuckles, "Stop worrying about me. I have this one wrapped around my little finger... Get outta here. Go and surprise Lanie tonight."

"Only if you're sure."

She throws him her patented eye roll in response.

Before he leaves Espo gives Castle an evil glare, one with undercurrents of, I-know-where-you-live-and-it-wouldn't-be-the-first-time-I-had-to-hide-a-body.

"Take care of her, Castle."

"You can count on it."

After her bodyguard is a good ten feet away, Rick turns to her with wicked intent and says brazenly, "I'd like to take care of you in more ways than one."

"I may just hold you to that, Writer boy," and then she's walking away from him, the hem of the coat dancing along the back of her lower thighs, a sexy gait in her step which has him biting his knuckles ardently, wondering how he's going to survive the night.


	10. Chapter 10

"Stop it," she demands, trying not to smile at his antics.

"Stop what?" he asks, oozing male chauvinistic charm.

"Stop fantasizing."

"Why, Diamond, just because your mind's in the gutter doesn't necessarily mean mine is as well."

She joyfully laughs, and the sound fills the limousine and leeches into his heart.

"My mind's mulling over the fact that I'm sitting in the back of a limo with my fav - " she quickly corrects herself, "with a famous author."

"What kind of author am I?" he prods.

"One who thinks he's better than he actually is."

"My book sales happen to back up my superior skills."

"Your book sales prove that Americans happen to be grossly fascinated with murder."

His eyes meld with hers. "This American happens to be grossly fascinated with you."

Their bodies are perpendicular to one another in the back of the limo; their knees barely an inch apart and he has to consciously keep reminding himself to only look at her face, not be a complete douche by drooling over her legs. Those fuckin toned legs he can see far too much of, which he envisions wrapping around his waist and squeezing his ass as she grinds down sinfully.

She gazes at him as if he's the first man she's come across that she can't quite figure out and it makes her uncomfortable as well as extremely hmm, ... if he had to put a word to it, he'd say 'hot.'

And most definitely bothered.

Her stare pierces every pore on his skin and his blood boils and thrums in response to her heated gaze; her lips part while she's unconsciously thinking, making him wonder what will come out of her sultry mouth next.

"You are certainly a red-blooded American male as you're NOT fantasizing very loudly."

His answering smarmy grin would give Robert De Niro a run for his money. "Now I'm not admitting to anything..."

"Of course not."

"But if I were, what do you think I'm fantasizing about?"

"You're wondering, - " and the toe of her pump glides along his Ferragamo loafers, "if I'm wearing my birthday suit beneath this trench coat and exactly how long it would take to find out."

"3.3 seconds flat," flies out of his mouth without a thought and her answering, I-love-a-man-who's-quick-with-his-hands, smirk keeps his cock achingly aware of her.

"I'm not, you know," she sighs, looking as stunningly brilliant as her name.

"Not what?"

"Stark naked beneath this coat."

"Hmm, I didn't think you were."

"You're a terrible liar."

He plays affronted, all droopy eyelids and down turned lips. "I'm envisioning you wearing an elegant silk, lilac negligee with cream lace trim, a sweetheart neckline and barely long enough to skim that magnificent ass."

"Let me guess... With a matching thong?"

"Of course," he chuckles, "Because you dressed like a Victoria Secret model would make even a devoted Monk rethink his vows."

"Interesting. I would have pegged you more as a slutty-black-leather-kind-of-guy."

"I'm officially offended," but from his, I-get-off-on-verbal-sword-play tone of voice, he's anything but... "I prefer a woman to look beautifully classy with just a hint of bad-girl edge, rather than if she walked straight out of 'Lady Irena's House of Pain'."

"So you prefer the girl-next-door type compared to the sexually liberated woman?"

"No, not necessarily. A promiscuous woman who knows who she is and exactly what she wants from a man is extremely appealing... Let's just say my type of woman is the perfect combination of both."

A slight flush rises to the apple of her cheeks and he can tell by the way her fingers nervously smooth down the coat, she's interpreted correctly he's hoping she's that woman.

"I have a prediction about tonight," he husks out, moving his body more towards her so their knees graze one another.

"So in addition to being a creative author, you also dabble in fortune telling?"

"I'm a man of many talents. I'm hoping you'll let me demonstrate a few tonight."

"Woah, down boy," she chuckles, and those multi-colored eyes leer at him from head to toe. "I'm the one who's in charge this evening, remember? ... I owe you a tour. Where would you like to umm," and her tongue snakes out and licks her lower lip, "start?"

_Glorious fuck,_ everything about her infers she'd like to give him a tour of her body, the, I-prefer-to-stay-naked-all-day-long voice, the fluttering of her thick as molasses lashes, her Heidi Klum gams crossing one over the other, purposefully allowing him to catch a glimpse of black chiffon beneath the coat.

He wants to tour so many places on her delectable flesh, - lift up her straight hair and start at the sweet spot on the nape of her neck, nibble at the smooth juncture of her neck and shoulder, taste every freckle, every blemish and mole as his lips map out her back, down her spinal column until he reaches...

"I'd like to start by learning your name."

"Castle," she says with teasing exasperation. "That's not going to happen, so **stop **asking."

"Wow. You're sure being demanding tonight." A smile creeps into his voice to match his frisky mood. "Castle, stop fantasizing," he mimics her. "Castle, stop asking my name… When do I get the chance to ask you to 'stop' something?"

"Well that would be a first," and her eyes light up devilishly. "No man has ever asked me to stop anything before."

"I plan on being your first in **many **different things."

"Hypothetically speaking, if I were to give you permission, - and that's a Biig If, - what would you ask of me?"

His eyes hone in on her exotic face, his hand following suit, and he brushes the back of it across her silky cheek, fingers delving in the layers of her hair.

"Stop being Diamond for just a couple of hours and let me be with you... The girl who was most likely raised in an upper class family because she exudes stellar manners and grace, but who suffered a deep tragedy which affected every facet of her life. The woman whose heart of gold was once an open book but is now hidden inside a steel safe, just waiting for the right man to come along and figure out the combination to unlock it. The woman who hopes one day she can put back together the pieces of her shattered life... Let me be privy to her," he pleads, "the one who's striving for inner peace but wonders if she'll ever find it."

He knows he's hit close to home by her quick intake of breath and her eyes darting away from his.

He has to strain to hear her as she says barely above a whisper, "I may have underestimated you, Richard Edgar Castle."

Castle swears under his breath as Brandon's voice floats over the intercom, interrupting them.

"Mister Castle, we're five minutes away from our destination."

She pulls away from his touch and glares at him teasingly. "Five minutes away? I thought I was in charge of this date. What exactly do you have planned for us because I happen to hate surprises."

"That's impossible. No woman hates surprises."

"I'm not like most women."

"So I've noticed," he drawls, before hitting the intercom and telling Brandon to head towards the rear hangar. "I want to be your tour guide tonight. Show you the city I love through my eyes."

"Really now? And what if I refuse?"

"You won't."

"And why not?"

He sits back and interlocks his fingers behind his head, grinning outrageously, emitting a raunchy Don-Juan vibe. "Because you've finally met your match in a man."

"Mmm, the tabloids didn't embellish your cocky nature."

"They also didn't embellish my other fine, _manly_ attributes."

"You sure do seem anxious to show me those," and her eyes fall daringly to his crotch, "attributes, Writer Boy."

He chuckles, "That's the understatement of the year, but I happen to be a very patient man."

"I doubt you even know the meaning of the word."

"I'd love to prove to you just how patient I can be, - especially in the bedroom."

Her leg starts swinging back and forth, back and forth, those fuck-me-heels skimming along his pant leg. "I may have to go against my better judgement and test you someday."

The hidden promise behind her words has his cock throbbing in cadence with his galloping heart.

"I predict you're going to have the most memorable time of your life tonight," his eyes skim to the zipper at the top of the trench coat, "and by the time the night ends," then fall to the knot at her waist, "you'll gladly give me your name."

He finally zeros in on those gorgeous gams; I-am-undoubtedly-a-leg-man, radiating from every fiber of his being.

"Dream on," she laughs. "Many men have tried," but her 'come hither' voice tells him she's hoping he's the one to get past all her barriers and extract the information.

_So many possibilities and they all end up with the same outcome._

Him.

Her.

Uncontrollable, out of this world passion.

Naked, slick bodies.

Hours of immense, carnal pleasure.

Rick determines to win this round, no matter what the cost. This woman who's in his veins and fueling his deepest fantasies doesn't stand a chance if he brings his 'A game', but as he takes in her svelte form and lovely pink mouth, which has the power to unhinge a man, he's worried he just might be the one who doesn't stand a chance.

**...**

She's honestly can't believe where she is... Sitting next to her favorite author with a headset on, helicopter blades whirring loudly overhead, looking down at the captivating city blanketed in a sea of lights.

She has to admit she's pretty impressed with his ingenuity as no man's ever thought before to take her on a helicopter tour.

The view from the chopper's stunning…The setting sun's spewing red and pink rays into the darkened sky, creating an artist's dream of color.

"Oh my God, Castle, this is just incredible." She looks around in awe at the brilliance of New York. "I've always known how blessed I am to be living in such a beautiful city but from this view, it literally takes my breath away."

His voice deepens, rasps out, "Yes, absolutely incredible, utterly breathtaking," and she doesn't have to see his eyes caressing her face to know he's talking about her.

Gawd, the way he's looking at her, - possessive, covetous, - she's seriously thinking about throwing caution to the wind and just owning the man.

She pictures himself kneeling in front of him, placing one hand on his strong thigh, the other between his legs, fingers slightly grazing his manhood. She'll tip forward, her mouth millimeters away from his and beg, "Take me, Castle," before her lips slide across his large mouth, finally tasting him.

She can practically taste the dark roast coffee and sinful desire rolling off his tongue, feel the growth of his cock as she deepens the kiss, feel...

"Alright folks," Dave, their pilot, speaks to them through the headset, "off to the right is New York Harbor and Liberty Island. And there she is, the ever-impressive Statue of Liberty. She was a gift from France back in 1886 representing Libertas, the Roman Goddess of Freedom…She stands 151 feet tall and is a welcoming sight to all who arrive from abroad."

"Have you ever visited Ellis Island?" he asks.

"Yes, I've been on the Statue of Liberty tour twice before. Both times were in my youth."

"So were you born and raised here?"

"Yes, Manhattan born and bred," she chuckles, "I'm afraid I'll never leave. New York is officially my home."

No need to divulge she has to stay close to her father to keep an eye on him, make sure he attends his AA meetings and doesn't fall off the wagon, - again, and she isn't about to reveal she wants to be near her mother's gravestone so she can visit often.

"Where did you go to high school?"

"Stuyvesant High."

"I'd bet in addition to taking all AP courses," he teases, "you were on the Minority Rights Council as well as the debate team, and had the reputation of being a heart breaker."

"Close," she grins, sighing dramatically. "Yes, I took several AP classes but I'll have you know I was head of the drama team and on the fund-raising committee. Our school worked with a couple of local charities to help underprivileged families."

"Ahh, you were the Principal's pet."

"Hardly," she chuckles, "but I did spend a fair amount of time in his office."

"Why Diamond, are you hinting you were a troublemaker in school?" By the bold, Oh-my-God, look in his eyes, he's seriously hoping she'll confirm his theory and relay a scandalous secret.

"Let's just say he didn't appreciate it when I started driving my Harley to school every day."

His peony-blue eyes grow wide as saucers at the same time his mouth drops open in an, Unbelieveable,-I-didn't-think-it-was-possible-but-you-just-became-fuckin-hotter-in-my-eyes, kind of way.

"Stop visualizing me in skin tight leather, straddling a motorcycle, Castle... And here I thought you weren't a leather-type-of-guy."

"Where you're concerned, I'm-any-type-of-guy," he says sheepishly. "But there goes my fantasy of you being head cheerleader right out the window."

"Head cheerleader, really? ... I wouldn't have pegged you as that cliche high school boy. I picture you being drawn more to the shy brainiac; the girl who dreams of numbers and a guy who can sweep her off her romantic feet with just his vocabulary."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I fell into the category of the shallow, typical guy falling for the snooty, popular girl, the one who never paid any attention to the four-eyed bookworm."

"A typical guy, huh? I get the impression you're anything but _typical._"

His gaze is melting her from the inside out; imprinting on her flesh as he looks solely at her instead of the scenery around them.

They fly over the Manhattan Bridge, as well as the Empire State Building, all the while listening to the Pilot's energetic voice giving them facts and figures about each of the monuments, and if she were a betting woman, she'd bet a month's salary he won't remember a thing on the tour because his concentration is solely on her.

How has this man in a span of barely a week been able to turn her life upside down and make her hope for the unattainable dream?

She's hyper aware of him as they're sitting on a small bench seat, only a few inches separating their thighs from touching. The heat radiating from off his body is almost palpable. His eyes are spewing desire, filling her with unsurpassed need, drugging her with the possibilities of unseen pleasures, the possibility of burning alive under his touch.

She wonders what his reaction would be if she got the courage to just mount him, - jump on those massive thighs and splay herself wantonly over him, inhale his scent, breathe through his kisses, survive the inferno through him.

"The last place on our tour is Central Park," Dave says. "It's beauty covers over 800 acres of land and is the most visited Park in the entire U.S.A."

"Oh God," she whispers, gazing out the window at the scenic park below.

Unexpected tears prick at her eyes as she catches a glimpse of a landmark she's familiar with.

A memory assails her of when she was a young girl, holding her mother's hand while walking along the pedestrian path.

Her throat starts to clog as she sees the metal swing set and merry-go-round Johanna nicknamed, 'Katie's place."

A wave of emotion claws at her chest when she notices the bike trail leading to the lake. She sees herself at 13, bubbling over with happiness, not a care in the world, with her mother at her side, biking along the path until they come to an empty bench to rest upon... How she loved throwing stale pieces of bread to the ducks and geese, watching them amble their way up to shore where her mother would laughingly try to pet one.

"Diamond, what's wrong?" Castle asks, reaching for her hand.

"It's nothing really. It's just been such a long time since, - " she swipes embarrassingly at the corner of her eye, "since I've seen the park."

"There's obviously something more," he says soothingly, trying to coax her to open up to him.

She nibbles briefly on her lip, tears glistening in her hazel eyes and with her heart on her sleeve says, "Thank you, Rick. You've done something I thought was near impossible."

"Who me?" he jests, rubbing his thumb enticingly over the back of her palm. "An egotistical author who believes you've finally met your match? A writer who knows he needs a woman like you in his life to ground him?"

His words swirl around her in a vortex of yearning, whipping through her battered heart, - making her wish for more with this man who has the ability to completely undo her, make her believe in fate and destiny and forever.

_Oh fuck_, he's doing it again, looking at her as if she's the most tempting dessert on the planet and he can't wait to sink his teeth into her flesh and enjoy one sweet morsel at a time.

"Yes you, Writer boy," and she flashes him her thousand-watt smile. "You made this happen," and her hand squeezes his lovingly. "You brought back some beautiful memories for me that I thought were long forgotten."

"I did, huh?" and his smarmy, I-am-so-going-to-take-advantage-of-this-situation grin, tells her what he's going to say next. "How do you plan on thanking me?"

"The night's still young and it depends on whether you're a good boy or not."

"Define 'good'."

"'Good' can have multiple meanings," she purrs, "and I'm afraid you'll fall short in a few of the categories."

_He'd better fall short as I need the master of, I-can-make-you-scream-all-night-long, to come out and play._

"I'll make it easy for you," and his bad-boy vibe has her thinking about pulling down the zipper of her coat and showing him what's beneath. "There's only one thing I want from you."

"Only one?"

"One," he says firmly, and from the honorable, stalwart look in his eyes she _almost _believes him.

"In my experience, no man **ever** just wants one thing from me."

"Hey, have I ever lied to you?" and his hand cups her face gently, raising her eyes to his.

"I don't believe so."

"Good" and his sexy-as-a-Chippendale-dancer smile makes her want to grab his metro sexual collar and yank him towards her, losing herself inside his witty mouth. "Because I haven't... The only thing I want from you, Diamond, is to know your real name."

"Damn Castle," and her eyes roll of their own accord. "You sound like a broken record. Why is it so important to you?"

"Be - cause," he says throatily, placing a tendril of hair behind her ear, "I'm not going to fuck Diamond... I'm going to make love to the woman with the beautiful, damaged soul."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: I was extremely touched by the response to last chapter. Thank U all from the bottom of my heart._

_Please forgive me for the angst in this one. It's integral to the story line and I do promise a happy Caskett resolution :) Purpl_angel_

**...**

**"In my experience, no man ever just wants one thing from me."**

**"Hey, have I ever lied to you?" and his hand cups her face gently, raising her eyes to his.**

**"I don't believe so."**

**"Good" and his sexy-as-a-Chippendale-dancer smile makes her want to grab his metro sexual collar and yank him towards her, losing herself inside his witty mouth. "Because I haven't... The only thing I want from you, Diamond, is to know your real name."**

**"Damn Castle," and her eyes roll of their own accord. "You sound like a broken record. Why is it so important to you?"**

**"Be - cause," he says throatily, placing a tendril of hair behind her ear, "I'm not going to fuck Diamond... I'm going to make love to the woman with the beautiful, damaged soul."**

"I will not be calling you Diamond, when I worship your body... I refuse to call you anything but your given name," his thumb swipes greedily along her lower lip, "when I make you come."

_God, this man and his words. He has me all tangled up inside, - hot and horny and ..._

"You're a very dangerous man," she whispers, trying hard to disguise how he's affecting her. "And right now, I can't afford more danger in my life."

"I'm not dangerous, just determined... Determined to have you be a part of my life."

Her breathing's stilted and her heart's thundering like she's being chased by a serial killer and she's about to lose herself in those eyes as blue as the Pacific Ocean and as deep as the Grand Canyon.

"At times, there's a very fine line between 'determined' and 'dangerous' and you definitely fall into the later category... You're dangerous to any woman who has a pulse."

"It's nice to know you're not unaffected by me... I was starting to worry."

"You worry, Mister Castle?" and her laughter dispels the cloud of tension surrounding them. "When have you ever worried about a woman being immune to your charms?"

"Not ever... Until now."

"Okay folks," Dave's voice filters through the intercom. "It's a good thing we're headed back to the airport because I've just been advised of a summer storm warning. We're about five minutes away from the hangar. Make sure your seat belts are taut."

Rick immediately reaches for her belt, securing it, eyes lingering on the knot of her trench coat; fingers itching to unwrap it and sneak a peek beneath. "Let's make sure you're safe because I certainly don't want anything _dangerous _happening to you," he teases.

"It's already too late for that."

A gust of wind sweeps beneath the chopper and it sways unnaturally, causing her stomach to leap to her throat.

"Oh my God," and her hand clasps Rick's deathly tight as she closes her eyes, taking deep breaths.

"Listen to my voice," he soothes. "It's just a bit of turbulence. We're going to arrive safely on the ground in a couple of minutes."

She nods her head up and down, signifying she's heard him, but the rosy hue in her cheeks has vanished, replaced by a ashen pallor. Her neck drops back onto the back of the seat and a squeak of fright escapes her lips as the chopper suddenly drops.

He cradles her head and places it on his shoulder, whispering words of comfort into her hair.

"Sorry about the turbulence, Mister Castle. I'm shocked by how quickly the storm hit us."

"Not a problem, Dave. Just land us safely, please."

The rain drops start spattering the windshield and Kate hears the exact moment the clouds open up and pour out their fury.

Large, clear drops, like Heaven's tears, cascade down the tinted windows and blur her vision of the city.

Her head is cocooned on his shoulder; her left hand clinging to his polo shirt, bunching up the fabric while her right hand is intertwined with his. She feels his muscular chest beneath her fingertips, can practically hear his strong heartbeat as his addicting, manly smell wafts around her.

The lost young woman in her can't help but notice how good this feels, just to lean on a man, depend on him, allow him to take care of her.

She gets the impression Rick would be extremely doting and attentive in a relationship, unselfish to a fault, putting her needs above his own, making sure her happiness was foremost in his mind, but, the devil on her shoulder whispers, "All that will change as soon as he comprehends just how damaged you truly are."

The strong, independent woman, the one who's never had to rely on a man for anything before tells her to stop this before it spirals out of control, because fairy tales certainly don't exist and in her reality, dreams don't come true.

She's already fallen too fast, too hard, too deep, and her heart wouldn't survive losing him, - wouldn't survive having this amazing man in her life to only be tossed away when the going got tough, when he couldn't deal any longer with her traumatic past or the pains of the present.

As soon as the chopper lands, she uncurls herself from him and unlocks the seat belt, needing to put as much space between herself and his gorgeous physique as possible.

"You should've mentioned flying sometimes makes you squeamish," he teases. "It's a good thing to know about you so next time, I'll be prepared."

"There won't be a 'next time'."

Even if the chill of the rain hadn't been seeping through the helicopter door, Rick would've felt the chill in the air from her tone.

Dave opens the sliding door and before he can unsnap his own belt, she's stepping past him and is out the chopper, the wind whipping her hair across her face, sorrow filling those unforgettable eyes.

_Damn, something's seriously wrong._

He frantically tries to recall their conversation, but nothing immediately jumps out at him; he can't pinpoint the moment things changed.

Had he accidentally offended her? Had he been too confidant, too eager, too demanding?

He puts a $50 bill into Dave's hand and thanks him for the tour but when he turns back to Diamond, she's already ten feet ahead of him, walking towards the limo.

Wind barrels by her and that sexy maroon trench coat blows off her legs revealing an itty bitty black dress.

He would have thoroughly loved seeing her in it, can imagine the way it swoops low over her breasts, molding her lithe frame, accentuating her womanly curves.

He curls his fists in frustration as by the stiffness of her shoulders and her, I-can't-get-away-from-you-fast-enough step, nothing more is going to happen between them tonight.

_What in the world happened?_

A simmering anger starts building in his chest but he tamps it down, trying to calm himself, as he needs some answers from the beautiful minx before jumping to any conclusions.

"Diamond," he calls, the rain drops cooling his heated flesh as he goes after her.

She leans back against the rear limo door, face up into the sky, and he watches in fascination as a single drop hits her jaw and glides down the elegant slope of her neck, trickling along her breastbone beneath the coat.

_Fuck,_ how is she even more alluring while wet, tendrils of hair sticking to her face, a smudge of mascara brushed beneath her eye? The rain makes her eyes look more brown than green, murky pools of emotion he wishes he could decipher.

He visualizes closing her eyelids and placing his lips there, kissing away whatever's ailing her, but he restrains himself from acting on the impulse.

"Castle, I'm sorry, but this, - " her index finger wags between them, "Us... It's not going to happen. We will never work."

His heart seizes at her words, feels like it's trapped in a compactor, slowly being squeezed to death. He tries to keep the devastation out of his voice as he replies, "How do you know if you're not willing to give us a chance?"

"I'm going to save us both a lot of wasted time and effort by ending this before it's even begun."

"What the hell are you so afraid of?" He moves towards her, eyes glazed and black, simmering with arousal. "Are you afraid I might actually start melting the ice crystals surrounding your heart? Afraid I'll make an indelible impression on your life? Afraid I'm the one man who can dig under that wall of yours and crawl my way to you? Afraid that once you have me, you'll never want to let me go?"

"You're an arrogant jackass," she fumes, eyes sparking with fear that he's able to read her like an open book. "I know your type and you'll never be able to understand why I chose to be an Escort. It's my choice, and contrary to popular belief, no one forced me into this life. No man will ever be able to understand and get past what I do for a living. And you, Mister-God's-Gift-to-Women, are no exception."

"Don't lump me in with the rest of the bastards you sleep with." He steps closer to her, all male bulk crowding her against the limo. "I happen to be secure enough in my manhood, in who I am, not to let your job be my Achilles heel. It will not be our downfall."

He takes a frustrated breath before continuing, holding her turbulent gaze, "Will it bother me at times? Of course, I'm human, but would it stop me from seeing you again, be the catalyst in walking away from you? Never. I can honestly say, unequivocally, No. You being an Escort won't make or break us."

He lifts the back of his hand and grazes it across the beauty mole on her left cheek. "Only you have that type of power."

Her eyes dash away from him, and he wonders if the liquid sliding down her cheek bone happens to be a tear or a raindrop.

"I know you feel this unbelievable chemistry between us," he continues boldly. "What we have is extremely rare, possibly happens only once in a lifetime, and I can't let you go without exploring this, - exploring how extraordinary we could be together. Please, - " and he leans in, lips skating over her Marilyn Monroe mole before he husks in her ear, "don't throw away potentially the greatest relationship we could both have in our lifetimes."

He sees the softening in her eyes, the way her shoulders droop, and his cock tightens as her mouth falls open seductively.

"You don't get it, Rick," she says dejectedly. "There's no happily-ever-after for me. You were right about my tragic past. My life's fucked up right now, - has been for the past twelve years. I've got too much baggage to ever be complete again and I won't expose myself to the possibility of more pain."

"Exposing yourself can also bring about incredible joy and happiness, let alone peace... Let me in, Diamond. I want to be the one guy who makes a difference in your life... I can be," and his voice lowers in a lover's caress as his eyes burn into hers, "the **one** man who makes you whole once more."

"No. It's over. I'll ask Ryan to refund your money as I'm cutting the date short. Please tell your driver to take me home."

Anger combined with arousal can be a deadly combination.

It roils through his bloodstream and pummels through his brain, making him half-crazed and it brings out the dark side in him, makes him want to punish her for the long, lonely nights he'll suffer for many years to come.

"It was never about the God-damn money. Ryan can keep it for all I care. It was only ever about you. How do you not understand that by now?"

"I'm not worth it. You're better off without me in the long run."

"So this is it, huh?" he grates. "You get to make the final decision which affects both of our lives?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers and then she's fuckin nibbling on that lower lip and he just loses it.

L-O-S-E-S it.

"'Sorry' just don't cut it, babe. I'm going to give you a taste of what you'll be missing," and his eyes signify his intent just before his lips slam onto hers, - harsh, grueling, violent in their intensity.

His hand clasps onto the back of her neck, pulling her towards him where their bodies mesh perfectly, - soft curves and luscious femininity pressed against his hard planes.

She tastes like tears and rain and a heavenly dessert he'll never be able to sample again.

He growls into her mouth as his tongue slips between the seam of her lips, searching for hers.

He wants her to never forget this moment, never forget him, as his tongue battles with hers, tangling and sparring in time with his frantic pulse.

A hint of vanilla latte consumes him as he owns the kiss, not letting her breathe except through him.

His left hand seeks the hem of her coat and his fingers trickle over the fabric before delving beneath, finally finding and touching smooth, sleek skin.

She jumps at his touch, - then moans, - something dirty and delicious which has him pressing her back into the frame of the limo, his pants bursting at the seams.

Her arms snake round his neck at the same moment his fingers dig into her thigh, dragging up the taut muscle until he finds the silk of the little black dress. He palms the fabric, wishing they were in another time, another place, where she would have the courage to give them a chance.

_Damn her._

He wishes he was more of a scoundrel, the devil Lothario the tabloids portray him to be, as then he'd have the courage to tear the trench coat from her body, see what lies beneath and take her filthily against the side of the car.

_Damn himself _for falling for someone he could never have in the first place.

He rips away from her, dragging his eyes away from her kiss swollen lips, unable to bear the vision of her wet as a mermaid and tempting as a siren, - looking as if she longs for a fuck-session with him.

He opens the front door of the limo forcefully, tells Brandon to take Diamond where ever she wants to go and then strolls away, heading inside the hangar.

He doesn't look back, not even a quick peek to see if she gets in the vehicle, just walks away from her, hoping he can forget her taste, her cherry scent which lingers in his memory, and those legs which would make any man drool.

He hopes he can forget her mesmerizing eyes and the sultry voice he knows will fuel his wet dreams for countless nights to come.

He hopes, by the end of the year, he can forget the woman who's an expert at chewing men up and spitting them out, - but he's afraid, it just might be an eternity.


End file.
